


Moss

by antigrav_vector



Series: (R)BB fics - all pairings [3]
Category: Captain America (MCU), Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (MCU), Nick Fury Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., The Avengers (2012), Thor (MCU) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF!Tony, Blowjobs, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Get Together, Identity Porn, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism AU, Mild D/s Play, Nonlinear Narrative, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Smart Steve, Some feels, Superpowers, UST, approximately follows IM1 and Avengers MCU timelines, borrows from both movie and comics canons, canon character death, handjobs, hints of PTSD, kinda sorta IM3 compliant, lots of footnotes and worldbuilding, mixing and matching of MCU canon and timelines, pov fic, unmasking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 16:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 67,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5255567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antigrav_vector/pseuds/antigrav_vector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Technomancers are considered mages, though they aren't, truly. True mages have weak, usually offensive, powers. Tony's only ever had technomagery at his fingertips, until after the misadventures that gave him Iron Man.</p><p>Seventy years ago, a big fight went down in northern Europe between Steve and Red Skull, getting more intense with each encounter. It caused a series of barren circles in the landscape: scars left upon the very ground by the conflict between the two highly skilled mages. Both of the combatants have become the stuff of legend, since neither body was ever found. And, frankly, with the force of the last explosion, there was no reasonable way they could have survived.</p><p>And that's where things get interesting; now, seventy years later, Tony develops the Iron Man armour and confronts his enemies with it. But strange things happen when he goes looking for some solitude in a remote region of the north sea, afterward, hovering high above the ice and waves. He starts hearing a voice whisper and seeing flickers of movement that resolve into thin air. And they get more frequent as he nears the source: a man frozen solid in a block of ice...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: present day

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to my lovely beta readers: [imaginaryelle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginaryelle), [lil_1337](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337), and [LadyDeBrief](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDeBrief)
> 
> Also! Don't forget to check out [the lovely art that goes with the fic](http://dreammaidenn.livejournal.com/2091.html)!

_They say moss can survive without water for forty years, and revive at the first rain it gets. That moss is the first sign of returning life, with the way it will grow literally anywhere, from rocks to the coats of animals like sloths._

_Well, it's been seventy years, and the ground is still barren. Still lifeless. And there are six such areas. Areas that are seemingly actively avoided by people and wildlife alike. As though they can feel residual rage and fear._

_After the battle that had raged between the Captain and his enemy, the dark mage Red Skull, a series of increasingly massive explosions caused by forces unknown wiped out all living things in each of those six areas, culminating in one of about a 50 mile radius near the Arctic Circle. Destroying everything, right down to the bedrock._

Forcing down a sigh, Tony turned his armour back towards the Atlantic shoreline and Eastern seaboard. Wasting time in the armour, hovering over craters in northern Europe, wasn't the most productive thing he could be doing right now. Even though the hum of the armour's systems -- which he could almost physically feel with his new abilities -- and JARVIS' voice in his ear were both very comforting and helped keep the nightmares at bay.

There were definitely perks to being a technomancer, even if that didn't automatically translate to having mage powers or being able to sense them. The sensations of his tech and JARVIS' presence were familiar and comfortable in a way that the armour and his growing link to it weren't. He'd been able to sense and manipulate electronics and tech for nearly as long as he could remember. It was in large part how he'd built his first circuit board at four. That intimate knowledge of how parts fit together and affected one another was as much a part of him as the armour seemed it would become.

Of course, now that he had the mage powers in addition to his technomage's senses, and would have to train them.

The thought made him scowl, reminding him as it did of past events. His tangle with Obie, no, Stane, was what had gotten him into this mess, even if Stane had initiated the conflict. And, in retrospect, it was really for the best that Stane had never found out about his newfound mage powers. That could potentially have been an even bigger disaster.

It had been strange and disorienting to see Rhodey again for the first time after his captivity. Seeing Rhodey as he remembered him, and also being able to feel the mage powers he kept carefully in check had been just weird. Sure, it was like he could suddenly see his best friend more clearly, like a veil had been torn away. But it was simultaneously unnerving. And on his return to the US, he'd had a similar experience with Pepper. Neither of them had been exactly thrilled to find out that _he_ now somehow had mage powers, either. Rhodey had lectured him on the flight home, pretty much incessantly, despite the way Tony was doing his level best to ignore every word. Pepper had rolled her eyes and rolled with the new development with that way she had. She'd known him too long to let much of anything faze her anymore, but he could tell she was worried and upset. It showed in the set of her chin and the tightness around her eyes.

Shaking his head to clear it of the thoughts that were getting him no closer to untangling his own feelings about the whole mess, Tony started the trip home. He needed to get back, and continue working on defining the new direction he had in mind for Stark Industries. After his announcement to the Board and the world at large that he and his cadre weren't going to produce weapons anymore... well, unless he could produce something convincing to back his position -- and soon -- the Board was going to mutiny. Stane had very carefully plotted and positioned that little event, and not even his death had changed the situation. It was one more problem Tony knew he’d have to resolve, on top of a lot of others that Stane had handed him.

\------

\----------------


	2. Chapter 1: five months ago

The design he’d been working on disappeared under his hands, and Tony blinked. “JARVIS?”

"You have a presentation for the Board in two hours, sir, followed by a consultation for the US Army regarding a new weapons design later this evening," a disembodied voice replied. Just hearing it was enough to help lift his mood. His success in imbuing the improved calculation machine he'd designed years ago with an emulated spirit was one of his greatest triumphs to date. And he hadn't had to ask Strange to bind a spirit to do his bidding, either. This was an artificially created intelligence, uniquely designed for his personal projects, attuned to his thought processes and nimble enough to keep up with him. "Might I suggest that you clean up and get on your way, sir?"

Tuning out the feeling of flawlessly interacting parts and the low toneless buzz-hum that his technomage's senses always offered him when JARVIS spoke, Tony sat back and stretched, idly casting a glance around the workshop as he did. "Obie just wants me to kiss the Board's collective ass."

"While that is doubtless true," the dry tone in JARVIS' voice made Tony smirk, "the fact remains that you must do it, if you want them to leave you in peace to do your tinkering, sir."

His cars, lining the far wall in a perfectly tuned gleaming row, beckoned. A joyride sounded like just the thing right now, actually. Or, well. It did, but the prospect of the consequences was far less appealing. Pepper and Carol would tear into him if he skipped this presentation. If Obie left them anything to do.

The worktables placed throughout the rest of the workshop's area contained a smattering of projects abandoned mid-thought and waiting patiently to be picked up again. The new jet design in particular held a lot of promise... Shaking his head at his own thoughts, he refocused his attention where it needed to be. He was tired; his mind usually didn't wander quite so much. Turning his thoughts back to the presentation JARVIS had mentioned, he made a face.

"Ugh, fine. But I take no responsibility for anything that happens afterward. Why in the name of the Seven Mages[1] do I have to travel halfway around the world for this, anyway? I really don't see why one of the cadre couldn't do it. They did just about all of the research, assembly, and testing on this thing, anyway. Carol would be a good choice," Tony grumbled, not really expecting a reply. The cadre was comprised pretty much entirely of mages, and worked to help him get his designs off his workbench and into production by coming up with ways to produce them on a large enough scale to market and sell. Many of them were either ex-military or personally recruited directly from the best training programs by Tony himself. Carol, for example, was an Air Force pilot and a colonel before she'd decided to retire. They were based in Stark Tower, along with the rest of his company; it was only Tony, Pepper, and Obie that ever spent any time in this workshop in the family mansion. The remainder of was composed primarily of people without mage powers. They were engineers of all stripes ranging from mechanical to electrical, accountants, marketing experts, lawyers... the list went on and on. But the cadre was the group he worked most closely with.

"Because, sir, as you correctly pointed out, the demonstration will be more effective coming from you," came the calm reply. The AI ignored the rest of his rant, knowing that any response to the statement would only set him further down the path. "You are expected at Stark Industries Headquarters in just under one hour."

Tony stood and stretched, suddenly feeling the effects of the time he’d spent hunched over his holographic design table. Obie had handed him a stack of blueprints that R&D had hit roadblocks on... whenever it had been. Monday, maybe? He'd settled down to work on the issues, triaging and categorizing what needed to be done, then had a moment of inspiration as he’d looked at the proposed deliverables for the Air Force contract for supersonic jets, and spent the last who-knew-how-long holed up in his workshop simulating and tweaking.

And now he was going to have to jump straight into the mindset for this demonstration.

Great. At least he’d be able to get some sleep on the flight out.

\------

Coming to was more like walking face-first into a wall of fire. He hurt from head to toe in a way that felt like his skin was being scorched off, and couldn't seem to breathe properly. Something under his sternum felt like a rock the size of his fist, and that was going to make him panic if he thought about it too much. He couldn't open his eyes, either, and it took him several pained breaths to realise that that was because he'd been blindfolded and hooded. And, as he realised when he attempted to raise his arms, tied securely to a chair. Someone had clearly informed these people -- men judging by the registers of their voices -- how a technomage's abilities worked. Without his sight, he couldn't easily manipulate technology. He couldn't do it easily from a distance, either, and all the tech in the room that he could sense was out of reach. Or, more accurately, would have been out of reach if his hands hadn't been bound behind the rickety chair he'd been propped up in.

Slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings through the pain, he realised that he'd woken halfway through some kind of verbal or possibly visual sending, sensing the outdated and nearly useless tech as a low, off-key vibration like a buzz saw, grating on his senses. After a moment, Tony realised he could also feel the mage power being used to direct the-- something... he couldn't tell what it was, being unable to see it. He was just aware enough to register that something about that was _wrong_ , though he couldn't pin down what. What they were saying, he had no idea; he was not really processing what was happening and he knew it.

Trying to determine where he was revealed that someone to his left and behind him was speaking into a communication portal pretty obviously based on one of his own designs but very poorly replicated. Forcing himself to focus a little more as he wheezed, trying to breathe, he decided it was being said in a language he didn't recognize. He couldn't make out anything that made sense.

The demonstration itself had gone well; he could remember that much if he spent the effort to focus on the memories. The Jericho had performed to specifications, and a new circle of nearly barren land had appeared in the deserts of Afghanistan. It was close to, but not quite, as devastating as whatever had caused those six craters that were scattered throughout Northern Europe. A triumph of Science and technology, really, in many ways. That much Tony could remember. Afterward... well. Not so much.

His thoughts cleared a little and Tony took stock. He was fairly sure he had been caught in some kind of mage trap. And whatever the mage trap had been _intended_ to do, it had clearly backfired. He knew of few other things that could cause the kinds of injuries he could feel scattered down his torso and extremities, but they were the kind that were only ever inflicted when something went horribly wrong: cuts from the shrapnel caused when a mage trap exploded, burns from the heat and energy released, and his technomage’s senses positively ached from the backlash that had occurred when the stored mage power had all been released at once. The trap had effectively turned into a bomb.

He shifted, trying to ease a little of the pain. It spiked instead, sparking white behind his eyelids like a flare, and the leaden lump under his sternum started to spread towards his left shoulder. He passed out again before the transmission was over.

\------

The next time he woke, it was to a stranger leaning over him and a startling absence of pain. He tried to scramble up and away from the man. Operative word: tried. He discovered in the attempt that he was so weak that he could barely lift his arms, and that his injuries were still very much present, though most had been patched up. Moving _hurt_ , and he couldn't suppress the groan and sharp gasps for air that his attempted escape had caused. He tried to school himself to calm, knowing panicking wouldn't help. It didn't work well.

"Who the hell are you?" Tony gasped out, his throat feeling like it had been given a once-over with steelwool and sandpaper. He'd wanted it to come out more authoritative than that, but, fuck it, that was close enough. This man, whoever he was, didn't seem to be inclined to threaten him.

"My name is Yinsen," came the calm reply, tone even and measured.

Tony looked at him sharply, his attention suddenly more focused. This man spoke English -- likely far better than his captors -- and was obviously highly educated. Both were facts that didn't match Tony's hazy memories of his first awakening. Add to that the fact that he felt somehow more solid than most people to Tony’s technomage’s senses, and it became an intriguing mix of contradictions, even through the confusion of information offered by half-memories and what Tony was pretty sure was the lingering detachment offered by strong anaesthetics.

Who the hell _was_ this guy?

"Why are you here," Tony asked, hoping things would make sense again soon. He felt dizzy and still couldn't seem to draw a full breath. "What happened to me?"

A wry smile crossed Yinsen's face. "I am here because I have skills that are in demand. Not because I choose to be." He took two steps away from the too-short cot Tony had been laid out on with his feet hanging off the end, and picked up a razor, beginning to shave using a scrap of silvered glass for a mirror.

Belatedly, Tony glanced around the room, noting the heavy, barred doors and the lack of windows. The only light source was a tiny flickering mage lamp. It almost seemed to sing sweetly in his awareness in comparison to the communication device he'd sensed earlier. After a long, almost meditative pause, Yinsen continued. "As for what happened to you… well. The group that captured you is known as the Ten Rings. They are infamous in this region for capturing mages and forcing them to work until Death himself is hounding them to stop and rest. The traps they use are not gentle ones, and also, I think, not meant to hold technomancers. You were severely injured when it recoiled, and I was called in to ensure you survived." A humourless smile flitted across his face. "The trap happened to be of your own manufacture, you know."

The irony burned in his brain as it registered. "I make those to protect our armed forces," Tony gritted out, "not to sell to terrorist groups. How do you know it was one of mine?"

Yinsen snorted. "The Ten Rings own a large amount of your weapons, Mr. Stark."

Tony let his head fall back with a pained grunt. It was only then that he registered the low hum of some tech he didn't recognise situated halfway down his sternum and lifted his head enough to stare at it, agape. It was essentially the bastard child of an electromagnet and a parachute harness, and had been adjusted very carefully to sit almost directly over his heart. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"The trap that injured you strained your technomage’s gifts, and your heart. It used you as a power source, I believe, and drained you to the point where your heart stopped beating for nearly a minute even after they’d pried you back out of it. I was forced to adapt a healing spell on the spot and reuse an old housing that I bargained for. It is a less than elegant solution, I'll own. But it works. You may recover in time, if you are careful."

And now Tony recognized it. Similar to some of the spells his cadre had used in some of their medical tech, it was half muscle healing, and half stasis. A brute force way to keep his heart beating as he recovered. The spell was enclosed in a housing so crude it might as well have been using a car battery for a power source. By all the Seven Mages.

It was a way to let him heal, if it was possible to. He let his head fall back onto the near nonexistent pillow again. "And what do they want from me?"

Yinsen laughed once, the sound short and ugly. "The same thing they want from the rest of us, Mr. Stark. Something to further their agenda. Be it healing spells, armour, or," he nodded at Tony, "weapons."

After that discussion, it took a while for Tony to calm enough that he wouldn't do something hasty. Yinsen had very nearly been forced to follow through on his threats to tie Tony down to the cot when he'd tried to get to his feet despite his injuries.

Eventually, the sensation of the mage light registered properly in his mind, and he abruptly stopped in his metaphorical tracks. For that matter, how could he feel the spell in his sternum? He should only have been able to sense the crude mechanical portion of it. He was no mage. Shouldn't be able to sense mage power or spells. And he could -- it felt more or less stable, for now at least, if far from efficient -- but...

_Shit._ "Yinsen?"

He got a hard stare from the man. "If you persist in your--" Tony shook his head and the mage stopped speaking, a more thoughtful look easing the lines of frustration on his face. "What is it, Stark?"

"Did your spell have any side effects?"

"None that I could detect. Why do you ask?"

"I can feel that mage light."

Yinsen gave him a quizzical look. "And...?"

"And that's new."

The mage snorted, apparently amused. "Well, Stark, I'd say congratulations are in order, then. It seems you have developed mage powers to go along with your other gifts."

Tony wanted to groan. One more thing to worry about. It would take some time before the nature of the power became evident. It was clear he would have to let himself recover before he attempted to use these new powers, and then he'd need to experiment with them until he knew what he could and couldn't do. Strengthen them through use and learn where his limits were. But even if he recovered quickly enough to attempt to do such here, it was distinctly not the time or place for that kind of exploration. That could pose a problem if he accidentally triggered his mage gifts and was unprepared for the effects.

Technomancers were not true mages, though it appeared in the perception of outsiders that they could bend technology to their will. In reality it was far more complex than that. They could 'feel' how things fit together, how they'd interact. They could sense when something was off, a bit like hearing a tone out of true in the middle of a symphony. Or at least he could, Tony acknowledged. He had no idea whether the ability manifested that way for all technomancers. He'd never met another with the same level of ability he had. Maybe to someone else with the power it would feel totally different.

A true mage could manipulate his surroundings directly through, for example, the ability to increase their speed and stamina, grant themselves temporarily higher than usual intelligence, or amplify their instinct for tactics. And most mages could do more than one of these things, which was why they were so prized by the military as well as tech companies like his. When these abilities were channeled properly, their effects could be stored inside what was commonly known as a 'spell housing', for all that it was no such thing. More like a battery, really. It functioned almost exactly like one, in that once it was depleted, a mage with the correct abilities was needed to recharge it. Transferring the stored power or duplicating it was something all mages could do, though, once they'd had adequate training and practice. Tony had seen Rhodey use his power, once, during a particularly rough press conference, and it had been like watching his friend grow two inches and start oozing authority.

Generally one 'side' was dominant, and people manifested _either_ the abilities of technomancer or mage. Which was not to say that it could never happen that someone manifested both types of power, but it was rare. Very rare. All of the Seven Mages were suspected to have both ability sets, though that was unconfirmed for obvious reasons. Documentation of such things in the Western world, especially before the advent of the Roman Empire, was unreliable at best. A few others throughout European history were suspected of having both types of powers, but after the way the Catholic Church had gone after them as witches and possessed by the Devil or whatever nonsense during the height of their power during the Middle Ages, a lot of what documentation had existed had gotten destroyed, and anyone even suspected of having said powers had been subjected to all kinds of horrors. The relevant manuscripts from that time period that had survived detailed some of the punishments for being a 'witch'. There were considerably more records in Chinese and Japanese culture, but they were kept very private. There were rumours that a number of the emperors of both nations had had the talent for both technomancy and magery, but those were unconfirmed hearsay. He'd heard about it in detail once from Carol and some of the other historically-minded members of his cadre of mages. Not all of it had stuck with him, but this much...

But that was getting off-topic. Tony pulled his thoughts back away from that tangent.

A small number of technomancers also had the ability to sense true mages at work, and could tell when mage power was actively in use around or on them. Normally this was a skill only mages possessed. Technomancers were also far rarer than true mages, as it took an aptitude and talent for technology to allow such power to manifest, rather than the other way around. Having the potential for the power didn't help if you were hopeless with tech.

Technomancers were, in effect, the one percent of the one percent as a result. And now, Tony knew, he'd jumped at least three standard deviations farther into the unknown.

\------

Yinsen's predictions regarding his captors' motives proved true. That same afternoon, even before Tony had recovered the strength to stand, they were demanding that he build them the very weapon he had demonstrated to the Board... whenever it had been; he had no idea how long he'd been held in this cell with Yinsen, and Yinsen couldn't tell him. They wanted a weapon fearsome enough to make them undisputed rulers of the area.

Tony refused.

In the end, he held out for a week in the face of cut rations, the 'persuasion' of others of the Ten Rings' captive mages, and his own physical weakness before the combination of his eroding resolve and Yinsen's counsel eventually overcame his stubbornness. He’d agreed to build them the weapon they wanted.

Well. More accurately, he’d told them he agreed. Told them what they wanted to hear. His plan, obliquely suggested by Yinsen and encouraged once he had decided to pursue it, was simple, and about as far from what his captors wanted as it was possible to be. He would use what materials and resources the Rings' provided to get himself out, and Yinsen was going with him. Going home to his family in Gulmira at last.

During the Rings' first attempt to persuade him, he'd felt somehow _aware_ of everything that was going on. Not just what they were doing to him, but also the overall situation. He'd seen a way to minimise the effects of their actions and taken it. It had felt like planning a course through a set of obstacles. After they'd started working him over, though, he'd quickly lost whatever focus had shown him that, and the pain had reduced him to only the will to keep breathing.

They'd dragged him back to his 'cell' and dropped him roughly onto the cot for Yinsen to patch up. Once Tony had recovered enough to stand unassisted, he'd resolved to update the spell keeping him alive since it was showing signs of deteriorating already, and to design himself a way home, setting aside the issue of his new powers for the moment. He had been told, through Yinsen as the interpreter, to put together a list of supplies he would need.

It was easy enough to fool both his captors and their pet mages long enough to design the two components of his plan. The mages didn't know anything about weapons technology, and his captors knew little to nothing about the use of mage power. The biggest enemy he had, really, was time. It took far longer to create new spells than to use and adapt old ones. Just as it took longer to design from scratch than to upgrade an existing piece of tech.

A large part of the reason for the long preparation time was that Tony wasn't a healing mage -- that much was already obvious -- and Yinsen wasn't good with technology. Tony could build a physical housing for the new, streamlined spell Yinsen was working on, could develop a way to feed power into it, but unless the two were compatible the whole project could fail.

It was delicate work, made more difficult by the lack of a proper workshop. They went through three design iterations before they found one that might work. Might. It was starting to get well and truly frustrating; Tony wasn't used to a failure rate this high. But then again, he also wasn't usually working to integrate a spell this deeply in his work; that had always been his cadre's job up to this point. Combining magic and tech was a difficult task, and there were a lot of finicky details that all _had_ to be gotten exactly right.

The consequences of getting it wrong, naturally, varied from project to project, based on the spells in use. The more volatile spell types, such as the ones Tony's cadre had developed for his smart targeting systems, could cause explosions if not handled correctly, and even the more stable spells could easily cause electrical fires or dangerous electrical shorts if their housings weren't properly designed and built. He'd been caught in more than one such meltdown over the years. Albeit mostly when he'd been starting out, and still getting to know the cadre of mages that made up the majority of the company's R&D department. He could code all the safety measures he liked, and it still wouldn't prevent a meltdown in many cases.

There was a fine line between coding and technomagery, for that matter. While his talents allowed him to 'feel' the difference between an efficient computational model and one that wasted a lot of resources, or a prototype that would work versus one that would try to shred itself if it was turned on, most of the time it wasn't that simple when it came to code. A lot of the time he couldn't tell where his measures ended and his cadre's began, when a prototype was finally polished enough to hit the production lines.

Refocusing on the task in front of him, Tony grimaced and checked over his housing design one more time. If he'd managed to finally get it right, this should not only house the spell Yinsen had developed, but also feed power to it and the other project he'd been working on. He had managed to put off the questions about his actions -- or lack thereof -- to build the requested weapon so far, but it was obvious to Tony that his excuses wouldn't hold much longer. The Ten Rings' leader was visibly getting impatient, and Tony suspected more 'persuasion' would soon follow.

Trying not to look hurried or secretive as he did it now that their design looked good and there was a reasonable chance of it working, he enlisted Yinsen to help him replace the spell held poised above his breastbone by the parachute harness.

The preparations for the spell itself were nontrivial, and, just to make things more complicated, the old spell needed to be removed before the new could replace it. Both of which made Tony nervous -- it was his life on the line, after all -- but Yinsen's calm and proven skill helped keep him on an even keel. Well. Sort of.

More or less.

The old spell was rapidly deteriorating, now, not resilient enough to withstand the demands Tony had been putting on it, and putting together the new one with its dedicated housing had required nearly a month already. Something that had made him very uncomfortable, despite knowing that it was only thanks to the older mage's skill that he'd survived this long. To his intense relief, once assembled, the spell housing had held, and when Yinsen had kick started the spell, both spell and power source had flickered to life immediately.

After that, the process of replacing the old with the new was relatively simple. He'd built the new spell housing into a lightweight metal breastplate that somewhat resembled medieval plate armour. The breastplate covered the upper half of his torso and wrapped around his ribs under his arms. It had a slot for the spell housing that was based on a BNC connector[2], which meant the housing could be removed and replaced, if needed. Tony hoped he'd never have to. They destroyed the old spell and housing. Neither of them was willing to let it fall into the Rings' hands.

It was always satisfying when everything worked perfectly.

But there was the little issue that the bright blue-white glow of the new spell in its housing was eye catching, and Tony knew he'd need to be able to explain it away next time his captors came by to 'visit'. It generated no heat, thankfully, so he wouldn't need to worry about burns or overheating his body.

It was worth the risk, though. He could feel the excess energy not needed by the spell keeping him alive feeding back into the rest of his systems, helping to heal the lingering pains from the 'persuasion' used on him and the last few injuries from his capture. Sharpening his senses. He hadn't had it for ten minutes, and he was already feeling far more recovered than he had achieved in the last month on his own.

Now that he had it, there was a much better chance not only of his survival, but that he could recover.

"What is that," Yinsen had breathed when they'd finished, awe in his voice. Despite knowing what he himself had contributed, it was obvious that Tony's work had turned it into something else entirely. Something new, and possibly revolutionary.

"A miniaturised ARC reaktor turned into a physical housing that feeds power into your spell and makes it effective. More effective than it was before," Tony replied, his matter of fact tone belied by the satisfaction in his smirk. The spell and housing seemed to radiate warmth in his new mage senses, if not his physical ones. And that was in addition to the bluish visible light it was generating, illuminating most of the room from its position on the worktable in front of Tony.

"How much power could it generate?"

"Hm, if my math is correct -- and it always is -- about five gigajoules per second. It should be self-sustaining, if we did this right."

Yinsen's stunned expression almost made Tony laugh. The 'self-sustaining' part of that sentence was really the key. It was a feat that had never before been accomplished in miniature. The massive twenty-meter-diameter ARC reaktor his father had built in the 60s had been the first and only example until now. Its energy production had been only effective enough to barely break even with the power required to jump start it after the first ten years of operation. It was a significant accomplishment, but not a very useful one. It had worked wonderfully for powering the factory in LA, because that was an application that demanded just what the massive hulking reaktor could provide: steady, stable, low-level power flows.

What he’d developed here was a significant upgrade. Not only was it much smaller, but it also produced several orders of magnitude more power. The average power draw of a factory was about 10000 kWh per month[3]. That translated to about 36 gigajoules, or about one and a quarter gigajoules per day. Even with the improvements, it still was possible to deplete his new ARC reaktor with a large enough power draw, but it would recover over time as long as the power draw stopped before the reaktor's levels reached zero.

"That's enough to run your heart for fifty lifetimes," the mage commented, hinting that he knew -- or at least suspected -- that Tony had something more up his sleeve.

Tony nodded. His respect for the mage who had saved his life had grown by leaps and bounds over the past month. "Or something big for fifteen minutes."

There wasn't time for them to rest on their laurels, though. Without pause, Tony threw himself into the next stage of his plan, leaving Yinsen to get rid of the signs of their work on the ARC reaktor. At least he could point to his efforts in building, now that he'd started. His constant talk of design and safety when using secondhand parts had been wearing thin when the Ten Rings' leader interrogated them both about their progress on the weapon.

Of course, _that_ charade wouldn't last long, if his captors had eyes and knew how to use them. What he was planning to build wouldn't look anything like the weapon they'd 'requested'. He would have to be very careful, and build all of the parts of his design separately, only combining them right before he used them. Building it all in one go would make it incredibly obvious that he wasn't actually building the missile he'd promised.

A dark smile crossed his face, twisting his features into a vindictive mask of rage. He would build himself armour, he'd decided. Armour that could fly, with enough power to carry Yinsen with him and enough weaponry to raze the Ten Rings' compound to the ground and salt the earth besides.

\------

It had taken longer than planned, but they were finally ready. There had been a close call, where the Ten Rings' leader had nearly killed Yinsen, in a way that still made Tony break out in a cold sweat just to contemplate. He'd thought forcing people to swallow hot coals had gone out of style alongside the fall of the Roman Empire.

Now, he was sweating for an entirely different reason; the sheer anticipation was enough to have him all but vibrating out of his tattered hand-me-down workboots. Today was the day they were going to break out. Assembling the armour took time, though. That, Tony decided, was one of the first things he would improve once they got out.

They'd booby trapped the door with an improvised bomb made with a couple of the small 10 liter acetylene tanks he'd been given to power his welding torch, which Tony thought ought to buy them some time.

"First the leg armor," Tony instructed as Yinsen all but danced around him, the appropriate parts and connectors in his hands. "We need to initialize that first, or I won't be able to walk."

A yelled question came through the slit in the door in a language Tony didn't understand. He turned to his friend, hoping this would be one of the languages the older mage spoke. "Yinsen. Yinsen, what's he saying?"

"I don't know," Yinsen sounded strained. "I don't speak Hungarian."

"You gotta try."

As Yinsen shouted something in return, the men outside stopped asking questions, and for a moment, Tony felt a flash of combined hope and relief flood through him. Then the trap on the door went off, a brief shock like cold water hitting his technomage’s senses as the tech they'd cannibalised was chewed up by the blast. Yinsen ducked, covering his head with his arms, before straightening and staring aghast at the results. "Oh, my God," he groaned, his eyes falling closed and a level of pain in his voice that Tony hadn't heard before in his life and cut deep, "forgive me what I have done and am about to attempt."

"Hey," Tony quickly tried to refocus his friend's attention. "Come on, we gotta finish the assembly process."

Yinsen silently attached the arm pieces, latching them in place, then set the chest and back armour plates in place. The whole procedure took just under thirty seconds to complete, but the armour wasn't through initialising. Tony could feel it, a slow rising hum in the key of B that threatened violence and felt like a supercell thunderstorm building on the horizon. Setting the helmet Tony was still missing on the worktable nearby, Yinsen picked up the automatic weapon that had belonged to one of the men killed by their improvised bomb and turned to Tony. He spoke in a solemn tone. "You need more time."

Intuiting what Yinsen was about to do, Tony tried to stop him, but he was immobilised, and would be until the armour had finished initialising. "Yinsen, no. There was a plan! _Stick to the plan!_ "

A sad but satisfied smile crossed the elder mage's face. "I'm gonna go buy you some time."

Before Tony could reply, he was gone, firing the weapon wildly and intentionally drawing as much attention as possible. "Shit!" Tony cursed to himself, the word packed full of emotion he usually preferred not to show, unable even to raise his arm to grab at Yinsen's shoulder.

Yinsen's plan worked about as well as Tony had feared. He'd found his friend only minutes later, but even that short delay had been too much. Yinsen was bleeding from about a dozen wounds and near death, staring helplessly up at the leader of the insurgents who was leaning over him and visibly enjoying the pain on the older mage's face. Tony blasted the asshole with his improvised flamethrower without even a pang of conscience.

"Hey, hey, don't worry, it'll be okay," Tony tried to reassure his friend, going to one knee beside Yinsen and daring to open the faceplate of his armour.

"This was always the plan, Stark."

"What? No, come on, we're getting out of here, and you're going home to Gulmira. To your family."

Yinsen made a sound that might have been a laugh had it not ended up as a fit of coughing instead. It left a small spray of blood on the chestplate of Tony’s armour. "My family is dead, Stark. You have a second chance. Don't waste it." The last words were spoken on a sigh, and the hand in Tony's went limp.

Tony forced away tears as he bowed his head, swallowing hard. "I won't. Thank you," he said softly, knowing the words would never be heard.

From there, fueled by his rage and sadness, it was almost easy to demolish the compound. The armour seemed suddenly lighter, his aim truer, and the explosions more satisfyingly violent. At times it was almost as though he could control the unwieldy metal suit with his thoughts and will, rather than by using the gestures he'd programmed into it. He didn't stop to question it.

\------

\----------------

 

[1] The Seven Great Mages, acknowledged for their triumphs in Science and Battle: King Arthur, Archimedes[1a], Roman Emperor Trajan[1b], Roman general Scipio Africanus[1c], the Great Khan, Ottoman Emperor Suleiman, and Napoleon Bonaparte. Others are considered to have nearly equal status, such as Merlin, Albert Einstein, Joan of Arc, General Patton, Steve Rogers, and Abraham Erskine, but are not counted within the ranks of the Seven since they show only talents in Battle (more commonly known as having mage talents) or Science (referring to technomagery, adjusted for the historical tech/science levels during their lives), rather than both.

[1a] In this 'verse, Archimedes also studied politics and military theory, and his contributions to both more or less defined the respective fields. Neither has changed drastically since, other than in the weaponry used. [Wikipedia link](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archimedes). 

[1b] In this 'verse, Trajan also studied basic science; ie, astronomy. Primarily because he wanted to have a more direct way of knowing what the gods' will was than by relying on his sages, and that's not even mentioning the fact that he was the gods' representative on earth, but in the process he made several important discoveries about the outer solar system and nearby stars. He was a big supporter of the theories suggested in Aristotle and Archimedes' work. [Wikipedia link](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trajan). 

[1c] In between battles, Scipio, who recognised the value of having good doctors to patch up his men, was a big proponent of assisting them and knowing what amounted to rudimentary first aid techniques. [Wikipedia link](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scipio_Aemilianus). Click here to return to text.

[2] Based on the films and Tony's background in mechanical/electrical engineering, I'm going to put my theory out there that he took advantage of one of the simplest and securest mechanical mechanisms for slotting the ARC reaktor into place. Bit of a personal headcanon. Info links: [{1}](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BNC_connector) | [{2}](https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bajonettverschluss) Click here to return to text.

[3] I’m approximating, based on the information found [in this pdf](http://www.unido.org/fileadmin/import/18497_Albania_CaseStudy_1.pdf). Other numerical values given in the fic have also been tweaked to fall into the correct orders of magnitude. Click here to return to text.


	3. Chapter 2: two months ago

On his return flight to the US after his three-month captivity, he'd decided to suspend all of the weapons work his cadre was doing, as well as his personal projects. After everything he'd seen and lived through, he could no longer ignore the misuse of Stark Industries' product lines. Someone somewhere was double-dealing, and he wanted to know who it was. Which meant that first he had to stem the flow of weapons, and then he had to watch closely. JARVIS' assistance would be invaluable, there.

Immediately after the military transport plane had touched down, he'd gotten a dry eyed but emotional reunion with Pepper, and a vehement lecture from Rhodey on overexerting himself. It had been exhausting. Rhodey, the mother hen that he was, had been the one to find him, stumbling through the desert in the remains of his armour and tattered clothing, with no supplies or water. Apparently the Ten Rings' compound going up in a fiery explosion had drawn some attention.

Their reunion had been a surreal moment. Tony hadn't known whether to believe it at first. It had taken most of the flight back to Rhodey's base of operations in Kabul for it to properly sink in, and then he'd spent the next week being fussed over by Rhodey and two separate teams of Air Force medics. Two of them.

Shaking his head, Tony stood. Nevermind that. The problem was under control now, for all the medics' blabbering about _irreparable damage_ and _dangerous field surgery_. Which, yeah, technically those were both true, but there had been no one actually cutting him open, so Tony was of the opinion that it didn't count.

It hadn’t taken the medics long to work out most of the physical things. The presence of the ARC reaktor had been glaringly obvious, and they’d taken that as their starting point. They’d found that the horrible sunburn from walking through the desert and accompanying dehydration were the worst issues, followed by the malnutrition and weight loss. But they’d been alternately fascinated and horrified by the ARC reaktor. Especially after they’d realised what it was doing. Tony had freaked out the first time any of them had actually touched it, and that had gotten them started on what had felt like an endless rambling discussion of trauma and PTSD.

The memory made him scowl. They all thought he needed to be treated like a soldier with all kinds of triggers, and they were dead wrong. His issues were tied far more closely to that damned mage trap that the Ten Rings had used on him than anything else. Sure, his captors had tried to get their captive mages to torture him into agreeing to build them their terror weapon. But they clearly had no idea that their captive mages were less than honest about it.

He’d seen a group of them making a break for freedom as he’d trashed the camp he’d been held in. Hopefully they’d managed to get to safety. Hell, most of them probably needed the help he was being offered far more than he did. The mages had been given instructions not to injure him seriously or permanently; the Ten Rings’ leader had been smart enough to know that if he was injured, Tony would never build them anything.

Since the prohibition against serious injury ruled out a lot of the really horrible shit, they’d tried a few of the less insanely dangerous torture techniques like waterboarding and sensory deprivation. Once. They hadn’t tried again when Tony got so wild during both attempts that he hurt himself pretty badly trying to get out.

He’d realised after a few ‘sessions’ that most of the captive mages were doing the bare minimum they had to. He’d been tossed back onto his cot to recover, Tony had been surprised at how quickly he’d felt better. When he’d brought it up, quietly, Yinsen had told him that a lot of the captive mages had healing gifts, similar to his but weaker, and actually maiming or torturing someone was so far beyond what they were willing to do that they simply refused outright. Instead they did their best to make it _look_ real, rather than actually follow through, to keep suspicion off them.

After that, Tony had put up a little less of a fight; he’d injured a couple of the mages previously, trying to defend himself.

The thing that he did have nightmares about, that he’d had nightmares about for months now already, was getting caught in the damned mage trap.

He didn’t remember it, but the pain and fear in his recovery were more than enough to fuel his imagination. He’d built those traps, and knew every inch of them. How they worked. And now he knew intimately how they affected technomages.

But he was coping. He just didn’t really want to talk about it; he’d refused when the USAF shrinks tried, and again when Rhodey and Pepper had. Talking about it would make it real in a way that it hadn’t been so far, and somewhere deep in his bones he just knew that would make the nightmares worse.

Working had helped while he had been in captivity, and was still working now that he was back in Malibu. He wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing; he was spending far more time in his workshop than he ever had, and that was saying something.

For that matter, he still wasn't sure whether the fact that there had conveniently been a Board meeting scheduled for the next day after his arrival Stateside had been a good thing or not. He'd chosen to seize the opportunity, and notified the Board of his decision immediately. They hadn't been happy, all of them far more concerned about their cash flow than their morality. Or the issue of who had tried to take Tony out of the picture. This seemed to include Obie, somewhat to Tony's dismay, but he hid his reaction as best he could, letting it manifest as irritation, when he couldn't throttle it back entirely.

The only reason it had been possible to force the Board to accept his abrupt decision and change of direction was the fact that Tony himself owned the majority share of the company's assets. Even Obie, the man he thought of as a second father, had been furious. Though that might have been because of the complete lack of warning. Tony forced down a wince. He would be hearing about this in detail from Obie, and sometime soon, at that. He was sure of it. Obie had been pissed. And there would probably be a lecture coming from Pepper as well.

He'd come home to his workshop under the Mansion and thrown himself into designing a new, lighter and stronger breastplate for the ARC reaktor to slot into. The old one was a bitch to wear, being made out of the steel scraps he'd had to work with in the cave, and desperately needed to be reworked. That upgrade thankfully hadn't taken long. The new replacement, made out of carbon fibre plates embedded in a matrix of Kevlar and lined with moisture-wicking fabric, was far more comfortable and thankfully hadn't caused any compatibility issues with the spell housing.

It was also far simpler to hide under his clothing if he had to go out to an event or make yet another TV appearance to prove that _yes, thanks he was alive and well_ , being far thinner and lying much flatter against his skin than the old one.

Turning back to his current project, Tony reached out and idly spun the hologram he'd been manipulating: an overhaul on the armour design he'd used to break out of the Ten Rings' camp. "JARVIS," he called, "what do your calculations say about the increase in power to the thrusters in the boots?"

It took a moment, but the familiar dry, lightly accented voice replied. "Based on simulations, the increase in power will cause the thrusters to operate at approximately 150% capacity for 9.8 seconds, resulting in the wiring melting and, with a 98.2% likelihood, a short that will cause them to explode. It might be prudent either to scale back the power or to reinforce the design of the thrusters to handle the higher output, sir."

"What are we looking at for a redesign?"

"At the very least, better power flow regulation. Preferably in conjunction with higher value resistors and capacitors."

"Easy enough."

\------

Tony was ambushed the moment he set foot in his almost extravagantly large living quarters midway through the afternoon. Before he had a chance to cross the open space between the stairs leading to his workshop and his small rarely-used kitchen, a voice rang out that made him freeze in his tracks, momentarily apprehensive, before he continued on his path.

"Tony," Obadiah drawled, "I thought we'd agreed: none of this ready, fire, aim, business. That stunt you pulled at the Board meeting better have been just a bid for attention."

"Afternoon, Obie," Tony acknowledged him, temporarily ignoring the commentary by turning and putting together a small meal of bread, meat and cheese. He plated his food, not looking at Obie, knowing for a fact his old friend was scowling and glaring at him. The spot between his shoulderblades almost itched. "I've made my decision," he eventually replied to the comment, "and I own the majority rights to the company."

"Tony, the Board has rights too. You can't trample all over them and still expect them to back you up on something this crazy."

Tony gave his father's old friend a flat look. "They're all idiots." Setting his plate down on the coffee table, he tossed his comment over his shoulder as he turned back to the kitchen for something to drink. "They can't see the damage this is doing to SI now that it's public knowledge that the terrorists have found ways to get their hands on the tech we produce."

"Tony," the warning note in Obie's voice was back, "you may own the majority rights in the company, but that doesn't give you the only say. The biggest, maybe."

“Yeah,” Tony scoffed, “but only because I managed to buy back so many shares from SHIELD. You and the rest of the Board were precious little help then. You _know_ that the cadre and I can come up with something that will make this worthwhile for the company, as long as I have the room to design and prototype without someone hovering over my shoulder night and day.”

“I’ve told you this a thousand times, Tony,” Obie shot back, sounding irritated, “I did the best I could. The Board was collectively reeling from the sudden cancelation of three contracts with the Pentagon. _Three_. We lost hundreds of millions in revenue in that single day. And there you came in through the Boardroom door with your head held high, refusing SHIELD’s contracts out of hand. They were justifiably worried.”

“Not one of them had any faith in me then, and they still don’t now. And before you start, yes, I know you’re playing Devil’s Advocate, here, trying to show me their perspective, but damn it, Obie, that was a catastrophe!”

“Look,” Obie’s hand came down on his shoulder, and Tony stiffened, uncomfortable. “Tony,” Obie’s grip tightened for a moment before he let go, “they’re worried, and you haven’t given me anything that I can pitch to them to keep them calm.”

Tony nodded grudgingly, giving in. Obie wasn’t budging, and there were better things to spend his energy on. "Alright. You've made your point. But, Obie, this _has_ to stop. If we can't find out how this happened, we're gonna take a major hit on the stock market. Even more of one than we would by stopping arms manufacture. War profiteering is a crime, and if we're accused of taking part, the company probably wouldn’t recover from the hit. We’d lose all of our current contracts, and our chances of getting new ones would be zero for _years_. You know that as well as I do."

Obadiah nodded back, satisfaction with his victory writ large in his body language. "Alright. But if you want this paradigm shift to work, I have to have something to pitch to them. Something revolutionary."

Now Tony glared at him. Obie's poker face might have worked on someone who didn't know him as well as Tony did. He'd found out about the ARC reaktor somehow. "Who told you? Was it Rhodey or Pepper?"

"Show it to me." Obadiah didn't answer the question. He was good at that. Almost better than Tony, really.

Tony gave in, beginning to unbutton his collar. "Come on, Obie. Who. Rhodey or Pepper?"

"Tony." Obadiah's tone was impatient, now, and crawled up Tony's spine in a series of prickles. "Show me."

Probably Rhodey, then. Obie would have probably mentioned Pepper's involvement. It _was_ Obie, granted, but he would have to have a talk with his best friend about handing out information that freely; all of the medics in Kabul had had to sign NDAs. Tony gingerly held open his collar just enough to reveal the healing-stasis spell and its housing. The bright blueish glow made Obie's features look oddly sinister. But that was probably because Obie was staring at it in what looked like awe from where Tony was standing.

Knowing he'd impressed Obie was gratifying.

"Let me have my mages analyse that." It wasn't a request, and Tony, still edgy and recovering from his stint in captivity, forced down a flinch.

"No. Absolutely not, Obie. This one stays with me. I'll make your mages something else to play with."

"Like what?" Obadiah jeered. "ARC reaktor technology is more or less a dead end," he scoffed, sarcasm and challenge clear in his voice. "There hasn't been a breakthrough in the field in thirty years. But that... _that_ is something special. What else could you possibly have come up with that's as good?"

"You'll see in a week, if you have the patience." Tony knew his tone was a trifle too challenging, but he couldn't choke it down. Not with the tone Obie had taken.

Not completely mollified, Obadiah turned sharply in place to face the windows and grumbled wordlessly to himself for a moment. "It better be good, Tony," he threatened. "The Board isn't happy. If you expect me to be able to convince them without a blueprint or prototype in hand to present to them, I'm gonna need you to lay low. No unscheduled press conferences. No tabloids. Got it?"

"Alright, alright."

Tony saw Obie out and stood by the front door, watching, until Obie’s ridiculously ostentatious limo was out of sight. Later that evening, he finished updating the housing of the ARC reaktor spell. Calling on his most trusted cadre member's help, he transferred the spell, too. Well, more accurately said, the member of his cadre he'd called on, Carol, duplicated the spell and crammed it into the new housing. Watching, Tony winced a little for the delicate workings of the new housing and decided he'd have to try to learn how to do that himself. Pulling out the old housing and slotting in the new one was almost a relief. It wasn't that the old one was failing. It was simply far less efficient than the new iteration. He set the old housing on his worktable, and turned to Carol with a grin. She rolled her eyes and left without a word.

\------

Two evenings later, Pepper stormed into his workshop, interrupting his continued attempts to update his armour as he took a break from working on the pile of assignments Obie had handed him. She knew about his pet project, as did Rhodey; he'd told them when he explained about the ARC reaktor. But he refused to tell anyone else, and had sworn the two of them to secrecy; this was tech that simply _could not_ be allowed to leak. Not only was it potentially dangerous in any hands but his, but the political backlash would be immense and he was already skating on thin ice after his decision to stop manufacturing weapons.

Although... given that at least one of his friends had blabbed to Obie already about the ARC reaktor, there was a good chance Obie knew about the armour as well. And who knew whether Obie would spread that around further. It was even odds that he would try to pre-emptively market it to the government for the military, rather than keep quiet about it. And _that_ would open up one hell of a can of worms, after his decision to shut down the weapons manufacturing side of SI.

"Tony," Pepper broke into his thoughts, sounding more irritated with him than usual, "what is the matter with you? You're supposed to be at the charity ball."

Tony looked at her blankly. "JARVIS?"

"The charity ball is indeed in your calendar. However, I have no record of an invitation to this event," the AI declared.

This had to have been in his calendar for months, and normally he was issued an invitation automatically a couple of weeks prior to the event itself. That was standard operating procedure for any PR event he was supposed to attend, though he tended to ignore them more often than not.

Tony scowled. Something was fishy here. "What the hell is going on here?"

Pepper sighed before answering. Tony mentally shrugged; he'd meant the query for JARVIS, but close enough. "I don't even care how you managed to 'lose' the invitation this time, Tony, but remember the annual charity ball that you started a few years ago to increase the Maria Stark Foundation's visibility? The one you insisted that you always attend, for publicity reasons? The one I personally made sure was in your calendar? That charity ball?"

That couldn't be right... "I didn’t lose the invitation," he protested. Sure, he’d tried that tactic to get out of other less important social events, but that wasn’t the case this time. Pepper clearly didn’t believe him, though.

"I really don’t care right now, Tony. In any case, that whole debate is beside the point and no longer relevant, given that the event started about 45 minutes ago. Why did you decide to skip the one event you usually insist on taking part in?"

"I didn't," he tried.

"Tony," Pepper shot back, "as excuses go, that one falls under 'not even trying'."

"Pepper, I'm telling you, I didn't just decide to skip it. I lost track of time. Obie handed me some urgent projects this morning and told me he needed them done ASAP. Apparently someone in R&D dropped the ball on these and he needs them dealt with yesterday."

With a frustrated noise, Pepper turned and stomped back out, footfalls staccato and angry. "Fine, stay walled up in here if you must. I have other more important political fires to put out. I guess I can find an excuse for you not to be there tonight."

Making a face at her retreating back, he spun in his seat once, the slight squeak of the bearings reminding him that it needed oiling.

She was right, really. He _should_ be there.

And he'd finished most of the changes he'd wanted to make to his armour schematics, anyway. This kind of bleeding edge development was always iterative. Without actually seeing what he was designing physically in front of him, his technomage's senses were only good for intuitive leaps and big picture analysis. He was forced to rely on JARVIS' simulations for the rest until it had been fabricated. Only then would he be able to find the more subtle issues. His more complex designs took upwards of ten iterations to debug and properly test and ruggedize, and this new armour ranked up there with the most complex of his previous projects.

He'd have to be patient for the next few days, while he worked the kinks out of the new armour.

And his new abilities.

Feeling almost pensive, Tony stood up. The mystery of his missing invitation might be worth investigating. This sounded like someone somewhere was trying to sabotage his public image. It was high time he crashed his own party. "JARVIS," he called, "do me a favor and shut down anything that might explode while I'm out, and mark down my progress. I think it's time I made an appearance at the charity ball. Oh, and start machining that armour, would you? I want it assembled and in testable shape tomorrow. We need to do a prototyping run before we start the next design iteration."

"Of course, sir. Might I suggest a shower and a suitable set of attire if you plan to be seen in public?"

"Bah. Spoilsport. Fine. Tell Pepper I’ll be attending after all."

\------

Arriving at the charity ball, properly dressed to the nines, make up hiding his pallor and the dark rings under his eyes, and happy that the layers of clothing hid the glow of the ARC reaktor's spell housing adequately, Tony took in the crowds as he stepped out of the car. There were more people than last year. The low pervasive sensation of tech everywhere around him was familiar and almost comforting; everyone here had at least one cell phone, and the news crews with their cameras and microphones only added to the general feeling of white noise.

A group of expensively dressed women noticed him and started squealing in excitement. Tony ignored them in favor of walking towards the entrance to the building. Last year he might have indulged them, let them make a scene fawning over him. A few steps later, he spotted Obadiah, who was holding court with several reporters.

Obadiah noticed him before Tony could say a word, turning to greet him with a broad smile and a pleased set to his shoulders. "Hey, look at you!" After throwing an arm around Tony's shoulders, showing off to the reporters who obligingly turned to their notes, he muttered, "I thought I asked you to lay low."

"Yeah, minor bout of cabin fever. I'll be inside." Tony replied, and clapped a hand to Obadiah's shoulder with a smirk, before half jogging up the shallow steps behind his mentor.

Glancing around the crowded room, Tony spotted Pepper chatting with Rhodey, and veered off in their direction.

He was intercepted before he could reach his friends by some investigative reporter whose name escaped him. She was very familiar though. One of the relentless ones. "Just what do you have to say about this," she demanded, flashing a handful of photos at him.

"Caroline--"

She corrected him before he could go on, tone icy. "Christine."

"Christine," Tony was still trying to work out what those were photos of. She was doing a fantastic job of keeping the subjects of the photos hidden. He reached out and took them, flipping past the first image -- of a village street strewn with bodies -- and stopped short, words caught in his throat. That was a crate of weapons created by his cadre. Sold by someone on his Board, in all likelihood. Feeling his expression go hard as flint he asked, "when and where were these taken?"

"Yesterday. I doubt you've heard of the place. It's a small town called Gulmira."

Tony would have been less stunned to be struck by lightning indoors. Without another word, photos in hand, he turned sharply and stalked back outside, ignoring the reporter's attempts to regain his attention. Obadiah hadn't moved from his position near the base of the stairs, and Tony didn't bother wasting time on pleasantries, this time. "Obie, I need to talk to you."

"Of course, my boy." He turned to the reporters and smiled suavely, "excuse us for a moment."

They took a few steps away, and, unable to contain his fury any longer, Tony pressed the photos into Obadiah's hand and hissed, "Obie, what is going on here? We aren't dealing in weapons anymore. What the _fuck_ is this doing in the news? With the company name -- _my name_ \-- plastered all over it? We _talked about this_!"

Obadiah made a show of looking through the photos slowly, deliberately, then turned to his group of reporters. "Alright," he called out, draping an arm around Tony's shoulders that felt almost companionable, "picture time."

Tony had no idea how to react, and quickly plastered on a smile that felt plastic even to him. As the reporters obediently, eagerly, began snapping photos of them, Obadiah murmured, _sotto voce_ , "who do you think ordered the hit on you, Tony? Who do you think locked you out? I couldn't have you having exactly this kind of crisis of conscience."

With a last pat on Tony's back and satisfied smile, Obadiah sauntered off, collecting the group of reporters and leaving Tony standing on the stairs, utterly stunned, his world shattering around him. That had been tantamount to a declaration of war, and the implications of _that_ were...

Fuck. If Obie had been the one to lock him out, he’d just admitted to making a clear attempt to steal SI out from under Tony's feet. And the Board would follow Obie's lead if they could, since all they cared about were their profits. Even worse, after that little admission Tony had the sinking feeling that there were good odds that the weapons making it to the black market and therefore the Ten Rings, among others, were in shipments that had been authorised by Obie. The admission that he'd tried to have Tony killed pretty much spoke for itself, there. Obie might well have paid the Ten Rings in Stark weapons for their botched attempt to kill him.

And the consequences of that more or less collapsed down to an attempt to take his stuff. If Obie intended to steal SI, he would need some new designs to tide the company over for the first few years, until the R&D teams could recover from the loss of their de facto lead engineer. And all of his designs were curated by JARVIS, on his own private servers. Hell, JARVIS could easily be Obie's main objective. No one else in the world had yet managed to replicate him, as far as Tony knew.

He left the party without another word to anyone, not even Rhodey or Pepper. He needed to get back to his workshop. Needed it almost more than air. If Obie had done something to JARVIS…

When he got back to the house, all of the windows were dark. It was eerie; normally, there would at least be light in the foyer and the workshop. Tony's eyes narrowed and he watched the front door for a minute from his position in the driver's seat, gut instinct screaming wrongness at him; something was wrong. Obie was no mage, but he had enough skill at intrigue to make up for it. There was a better than even chance that he'd managed to outmaneuver Tony on this one. Obie had been keeping the Board going in the 'right' direction at SI for years now, and _that_ was about as straightforward as operating a particle accelerator alone and without computer steering. And Tony hadn't been prepared for treachery from Obie, of all people.

Tony swore silently; in order to initialise his armour, he needed to be in the workshop, needed access to JARVIS and the armouring station he'd designed.

That was one thing Tony resolved to change for the next update of the tech. He needed to have access to the armour anywhere. The evening's events had made that abundantly clear. If he relied too heavily on JARVIS and his integrated systems, there was the freshly-demonstrated possibility that someone could cut off his access to the armour, leaving him without many options with which to defend himself. Sure, he was a good shot, and he knew basic hand-to-hand self-defense techniques, but the one was too lethal for his tastes outside of a self-defense situation, and the other wasn't terribly effective against groups of attackers. He hadn’t had a chance to really explore the limitations of his new mage powers, yet, or he would have been tempted to try to take advantage of them here.

The lack of lights in the windows suggested that either someone had cut power to the house, or deliberately turned off the lights on his approach on order to hide themselves.

He'd parked the car outside the grounds surrounding his house, which meant he'd be walking the forty meters to the house. Cautiously, he climbed out of his Audi and started across the mostly open space. When he passed the gates, which he had to open manually, the area between his shoulderblades tingled, a phantom itch rising under the skin.

That was just glaringly wrong; normally JARVIS automatically opened them when Tony approached. He tried reaching out with his technomage’s skills, looking for the buzzing hum that signified JARVIS’ presence. The jarring emptiness he found almost made him stagger on his feet. If Obie had taken or destroyed JARVIS, Tony knew he wouldn't be able to let himself rest until he'd chased down the asshole and turned him to metaphorical charcoal.

There were some bits of landscaping he could take advantage of between him and the house, but for the most part, he was forced to rely on carefully making sure to approach from an angle that concealed his movements.

Now less than twenty meters from the house, he could see that the front door was ajar. The closer he got, the more uneasy he felt. When he was within ten meters of his goal, he could see clear signs that the lock had been forced in the combination of the fist sized hole and large array of cracks around the glass beside the frame. It wasn't shattered, but that was only because the glass was reinforced enough not to; he'd used the same kind of technology for those panels as was standard on vehicle windshields and high rise office buildings, given his house’s proximity to the coast and the hurricanes that occasionally hit the California coast.

Cautiously opening the door, Tony entered, checking each room he passed through on his way to his workshop. There was no one in sight, and the house was eerily silent. Not even the muted rush of air from the cooling units could be heard, and his footfalls sounded overly loud in his own ears.

His workshop. It was the obvious objective. Odds were good that if anyone was lying in wait, they would be in there, or nearby. He probably should call for help.

But, Tony knew, that would only increase the radius of the killing zone. Would only put more people at risk. And that was unacceptable. Civilian law enforcement would only get in the way, unprepared to handle the hazards involved in this situation. There were a lot of unfinished projects in his workshop that had spells integrated in them, and those could cause all kinds of injuries if whoever had broken in was still here and inclined to mess around with them, or stolen them. If there was still anyone in the house, Tony really was the best qualified to deal with his own projects. He'd only have to waste time briefing anyone else, and there was a good chance anyone who responded wouldn't have the know-how to disarm the tech.

He would only end up defending anyone who came if he called for help. At best they would be a distraction. At worst, they would get hurt or killed.

All the more reason not to call Rhodey or Pepper. Not only were their talents better used at the charity ball, but involving either of them would only make things more dangerous for all of them. Especially if Tony failed. Sure, Rhodey was a mage, and an Air Force officer, but this went a little beyond what he was prepared to ask Rhodey to face on his behalf while unarmed. Maybe if there was body armour involved. But Rhodey had none. At least Tony had his lightweight Kevlar spell housing.

With those dire thoughts in mind, he crept as silently as possible down the stairs leading to his workshop, which was as dark and quiet as the rest of the house had been. Most likely whoever had broken in had left already.

Intent on reaching his armour now, ignoring the fact that all of the lights were down, Tony stepped up to the center table, which allowed him to communicate with JARVIS. Who was offline. Tony relaxed, now able to sense the dormant tech that housed the AI, even as he swore vehemently under his breath. No wonder the gate hadn't opened. But JARVIS was intact, and that was the important thing right now. If he could get the AI back up and running, that would help immensely in figuring out this mess.

There wasn’t actually that much destruction. The front door and his workshop door had been the main two casualties, so far. That implied that someone who knew the layout of his house had been the one to break in. And, worse, it was clear his systems had been deactivated by someone who knew his security protocols. Not many people had the correct authorisation codes for that.

He realised belatedly that there would have been just enough time between his departure from the workshop and his arrival at the party for Obie send someone here with the requisite floor plans and access codes and for them to be forced to give up by Tony's -- recently updated -- anti-spy and anti-theft measures, while Obie let himself be seen at the event of the evening. He hadn’t yet given Obie the codes for the new security measures.

It was the most likely scenario. JARVIS wouldn't have allowed just anyone into the house, after all. If it wasn't someone immediately on the authorised list, entry wouldn't have been allowed them without the proper access codes. It would have done no good to send someone to try something like this without giving them the passcodes; all that would have accomplished would have been to alert Tony.

Tony knew that he’d gotten very lucky that things had transpired the way they did. There was a good chance that Obie had blocked his invitation to the charity event and sent someone here in the hopes of either capturing or killing him. He’d done that once in Afghanistan. There was no reason to believe that Obie wouldn’t try again, not after the admissions he’d made tonight.

Maybe, Tony thought, he had a shot at this. Maybe his new armour was unharmed and completed. Maybe Obie didn't know yet that his access codes hadn't worked.

No, most likely what had happened was that the burglar had come out here, gotten in, and discovered that their passcodes didn't work on the workshop door. Why JARVIS hadn't called him, Tony wasn't sure. But afterwards, JARVIS must have barred the house to someone, for the front door to be in such a state. And that was also quite puzzling, he mused as he descended the stairs to his workshop. Someone breaking and entering should have set off all kinds of alarms.

The workshop door was only barely intact, the layers of toughened glass and steel badly scuffed and cracked, but not broken. Several large chips were gouged out of the surface, and the door itself was hanging almost off its hinges. Someone had managed to get in through brute force. It didn't take much strength for Tony to open it, with the way the frame was so warped that closing the door was impossible. His helper bots, amazingly mostly intact, stood in their charging alcoves on the far side of the workshop, their interfaces down. They normally zipped across the workshop to greet Tony enthusiastically the instant he appeared.

Calling up JARVIS' start-up sequence and fluidly entering the passcodes for the new anti-theft measures, he turned to take a proper look at the workshop, only now noting the true extent of the destruction as the lights came back up. The half-finished projects he’d been feverishly working to complete for Obie before he’d left for the charity event lay in pieces across the floor, all the effort he'd put in wasted, his tools intermixed with the shattered fragments. His old prototype armour, used in his escape from captivity and previously in a stand in the far corner of the workshop, was missing entirely, and what _that_ meant he chose not to think about for the moment. He needed to get JARVIS back up.

Thus distracted, Tony never saw it coming. A soft footfall behind him and the grinding sound of crushed glass on cement underfoot were his only warning.

With JARVIS still offline and his back to the workshop door, he really ought to have been more careful, he chastised himself silently. And silently was all he could manage, suddenly very literally paralyzed. A dark chuckle sounded, and Tony cursed his inattention, recognising the intruder from that sound alone. Fucking Obie had been waiting for him, and now Tony had all but handed him access to the new security measures. Fuck.

In retrospect, he should have expected that. Obie had left the party before he had, after making just the right comments to make sure Tony would rush home. Obie had led him around by the nose and Tony had let him.

"Tony, Tony, Tony. Always leaping off cliffs without a parachute. You really should be more careful, you know." Obadiah shut off the small sonic device and pocketed it, satisfied that Tony was no threat to him. He patted the pocket he'd used. "I'm sure you remember this beautiful piece of craftsmanship. I was so disappointed that the military turned down our offer to mass produce it. Now I'm wondering if your little friend Rhodes had something to do with that turn of events."

Tony's legs gave out suddenly, and Obie caught him under the arms, settled him on the sofa that he kept in the workshop, the movements oddly gentle. Completely at odds with his actions. "You know, when I took out that hit on you, I thought you'd reached the peak of your abilities. That I could finally do away with the annoying goose laying the golden eggs, and take back what was mine by right."

JARVIS would be back online soon. Hopefully in time to call help. Tony would have rolled his eyes at the monologuing, but even those muscles refused to respond. Thankfully his breathing and heartbeat weren't affected, being autonomic functions.

Just as he finished the thought, Obie smiled, a hard malicious edge to the expression. "But I was wrong. You had one last golden egg to give."

Reaching down, he placed a hand directly over the healing-stasis spell's physical housing.

Motherfucker. Tony could only watch in dismay and dull horror as Obie ripped his heart out of his chest in a nearly literal way. The clean blue glow of spell and physical housing came away in Obie's hand, carefully and almost reverently cradled there, before it was placed in an armoured metal case at Obie's feet.

"This," he continued, smiling at Tony like he thought Tony had done particularly well at something, like he had when Tony had pulled a 4.0 at MIT at age seventeen, "this is your legacy, Tony. A new generation of weapons, with this at their heart. It's a shame you won't live to see it happen."

Objective achieved, Obie left.

Left him to die slowly in the grips of a paralysis caused by a weapon he'd designed himself less than a handful of years ago.

Fuck. He needed to get to the housing of his old spell, and he needed to get it yesterday. If it was even still here and not also stolen by Obie.

This had turned out to be a complete clusterfuck.

Trying to move got him nowhere, and he could feel himself quickly weakening without the help of the spell keeping him going. With a silent growl he tried again, and was rewarded after a long moment with a twitch of his fingers.

Damn it, he was _NOT_ going to let Obie get away with this.

Another attempt allowed him the dubious comfort of being able to clench his fist and raise it slightly.

Come on, come on, _come on_.

Another attempt, and he managed to tap into some hidden reserve of strength long enough to lift his arm. Another two, and he was on knees and elbows, breath coming too fast and too short. Finally. Some progress.

He knew better than to try to get to his feet, it wouldn't last long if he managed it in the first place. Wasted time and wasted effort were both anathema just now, when his arms and legs felt simultaneously leaden and noodley.

Realizing that he was as recovered as he was going to get without finding the old chest piece, Tony forced himself to start moving. It was difficult; there were obstructions. Shattered glass, sharp bits of rent metal, and pointy transistor components littered the floor.

Thanks be to all the gods and the Seven Mages, JARVIS finally came online just about as Tony was halfway across the workshop. "Sir?"

Tony all but collapsed in relief. JARVIS was intact. Not getting a verbal response, the AI tried again. "Sir, what is wrong? What has happened to the workshop?"

Tony tried to respond, and only succeeded in forcing dead air[4] past his teeth. It sapped the last of his momentum from him, and he let himself fall to the floor, near exhausted and losing hope of finding the old ARC reaktor, not truly hearing JARVIS' alarmed queries. With the last of his strength, he managed to make sure he landed on his back.

He forced his eyes back open, not knowing when he'd closed them. Which probably meant it had been several minutes. Dummy was leaning over him, a blue light shining through his single clawed hand. Slowly, not believing his eyes, Tony reached up, the effort that it took only possible because of the sheer relief flooding through him, and took the reaktor his bot was offering him. _Good boy._

\------

Afterwards, Tony's recollections of the hour and a half that followed would be a series of scattered impressions. Putting on the untested and barely finished armour; trailing Obie -- who was wearing the Mark I armour he'd built to escape the Ten Rings, albeit with a few alterations -- back to the charity event; managing to distract Obie from opening fire on the civilians present by announcing his own presence as obnoxiously as possible; drawing Obie away and the violent firefight that ensued; running out of power before the end of the fight and having to corral Obie into a trap consisting of tricking him into overloading the ARC reaktor he'd stolen, resulting in a fairly dramatic explosion.

In the moment, it was almost a blur of motion, one action following immediately on the last. Sometimes before he'd finished the first.

Looking back on the night, Tony was pretty sure that Obie's attempt to destroy the charity event had been a calculated attempt to totally destroy him. Not just to kill him in his own home, but to tear his already shaky reputation to shreds. In doing so, he solidified his attempt to take SI, and even if Tony had managed to survive once more the media would have crucified him for the death and destruction that had been unleashed. All of it would have become Tony's fault. Regardless of the fact that he'd come flying in to save the day, and that Obie had caused the damage.

But he had won. Even just by showing up, Tony had thrown his opponent off-balance. He could tell Obie hadn't expected him. And that little bit of surprise had probably saved his life.

Now, however, catching up to events at last and about to give a press conference in an attempt to save his cadre's reputation, it finally hit him. He'd won, but the cost had been ridiculously high. His workshop demolished, any number of unfinished prototypes irreparably mangled, his cadre facing down a modern day witch hunt, the company's name dragged through the thickest mud, a significant amount of destruction at SI's Long Island facilities, and very nearly his own death. And he could lay it all at Obie's feet.

The man he'd thought of as a second father, who he'd thought would always be in his corner, had betrayed everything. Every ideal anyone had ever ascribed to him, and every memory. Betrayed Tony.

And, really, that was the biggest cost of them all.

Carefully, he forced his expression to remain neutral as he walked out on stage. An expectant mood fell over the assembled crowd of reporters, who murmured amongst themselves. Probably taking notes in their little tape recorders about his appearance. He did feel rather battered, though he trusted that the makeup hid the worst signs. He hadn't had time to find a heavy enough shirt for under his suit jacket, so he'd dug out the sling he'd used when he'd arrived home last week. That was probably why they were speculating.

Whatever. Let them guess.

Pepper had shoved a stack of cue cards into his pocket a moment ago, but damned if it wasn't tempting to blurt out the truth of things. To tear Obie to ribbons as he'd been nearly ruined by the turn of events. The only thing stopping him, really, was the knowledge that Pepper, Carol, and the cadre would suffer if he did.

Revealing that level of treachery would not only pit the Board against him, but the public as well. Stark Industries would be officially known to sell weapons to terrorists, and his cadre would potentially be facing down angry mobs with metaphorical pitchforks. That was something he had practice dealing with, and they didn't deserve. Pepper, as his chief assistant in coordinating R&D's effort with the Board's vision for the company, and Rhodey as his liaison with the military, would probably come under the same level of scrutiny he did.

They probably already were feeling the increased speculation and hype as it was, with his previous announcement about halting weapons productions.

Stepping up to the podium quieted the dull murmur of the crowd that had gathered. Somewhat gingerly, on account of injuries sustained during the fight, he drew a deep breath.

"There's been speculation that I was involved in events on the rooftop of Stark Industries' Long Island campus," he began, speaking slowly and quietly, keeping his emotions under wraps as best he could. "This is not the case." Tony forced a half smile before he continued. "What happened was the result of a malfunction during the testing of a new prototype, which was subsequently brought under control. The company stands behind our cadre, as do I, and we will--"

"Mr. Stark!"

Tony raised an eyebrow at the reporter who'd interrupted him. It turned out to be the same lady who'd confronted him with evidence of Obie's double dealing last night.

She didn't give the silent cue any heed. "Mr. Stark, surely you don't seriously expect us to believe that supremely convenient cover story."

"I'm sorry. It seems there was something I said that was too difficult to comprehend." The comment got him a glare. Both from the reporter and Pepper, who was standing at the back of the room watching things unfold.

"Precisely," she replied, tone sweet and eyes hard as flint. Tony had to admire her aplomb. "I find it quite hard to comprehend how you, who are known for being very involved in your cadre's activities, knew nothing of this before it happened, and failed to take action when it did."

"I don't appreciate being called a liar. The actions of my cadre in testing this prototype were taken with standard safety measures, which have now been clearly shown to be inadequate, and precautions are being taken to ensure there are no repeat performances. Among them is my decision to hire on someone to deal with such emergencies as they arise, equipped with the latest in emergency response technology." Tony gestured to the door behind him. "Iron Man?"

The armour, empty and remotely piloted by JARVIS, stepped through the door.

The crowd went wild. Tony had to work hard not to smirk.

It took some time for them to quiet again, and the first question, predictably, was who was in the suit. Tony held up his hands. "Iron Man has requested that his identity remain a secret for the sake of his loved ones' safety and their privacy, and I intend to honor that request. If there are no other _relevant_ questions, this conference is over."

No one spoke up.

\------

\----------------

[4] Essentially a fancy way of saying the radio is on but silent. Hooray metaphors! [Wikipedia link](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dead_air). Click here to return to text.


	4. Chapter 3: present day

Having spent the last two months trying to untangle the snarls left behind by Obie, and deal with the new set of nightmares the affair had given him where he had failed to get the old reaktor in time, Tony was starting to feel frayed at the edges. Dealing with the problems Obie had left him in the company was the easier option for how, and had the side benefit of helping him deal with the nightmares. Mostly bureaucratic, they were interspersed with self-assigned missions in the Middle East to dismantle or destroy the illegally sold weapons Obie and his cronies had distributed throughout the region.

It had devoured what free time he'd enjoyed up ‘til now, and was well on its way to eating into the rest of his life. There were no more art openings he cared to attend, and no more fundraisers, and there wouldn't be until he'd satisfied himself that there were no more Stark weapons on the black market. The Jericho in particular, was high on his priority list. Far too many of those had been illegally sold, even before his presentation to the Board five months ago, and tracking them down was far from easy. He was fighting his own anti-tracking and anti-detection measures, and that was bad enough since he was good at what he did and the cadre worked well in synch with him now, but many of the shipments he was after had ended up in mountainous or remote terrain, just to make them harder to find without literally being on foot and searching every square meter of ground.

He was just returning from one such self-imposed mission now, his armour bearing a few new battle scars and most of his on-board arsenal exhausted. Though his self-assigned mission had been successful, he was tired, so he had taken the chance to pause over the desolation of the more deeply frozen regions of Northern Europe to simply stop. To stop thinking about the weapons, about Obie, about the machinations of Board and Press alike. To stop worrying at the still-raw emotions that the whole debacle evoked. To stop himself from picking at the delicate scabs beginning to form over those wounds.

That was something that was impossible to do at home in New York.

Being alone helped with that; let him set everything aside for a while. Even if he only ever seemed to achieve that while he was staring down at one of the 70-year old magically formed craters that he'd been trying to replicate for much of his life, and now had sworn off of in favour of... well, he hadn't decided what yet.

After Obie's attempt to steal the ARC reaktor, Tony wasn't feeling overly comfortable in letting it out of his sight, so anything he pitched to the board would be in a totally different market. Maybe some new kind of communications device. Or a new jet. That might make the Board and the military happy. The green energy initiative and his plans for making the ARC reaktor profitable could wait until they had a reliable revenue stream to offset the ARC reaktor’s development costs.

He was also working on a way to interface with the armour directly, to eliminate the need to have JARVIS translating between it and him. Not because his AI was bad at it, but because that was a weakness in the set-up that he didn't want to leave be. If someone found a way to get at JARVIS, it could compromise his use of the armour, and that was one piece of tech Tony _never_ wanted to see hijacked or hacked... Tony scowled at the mere thought. He refused to allow that to happen.

But in any case, he was fairly sure that it was the combination of his technomage’s power and still-developing mage senses that allowed him to even contemplate manipulating the armour like that. It was unlikely that anyone else in the world, even a military trained mage, could actually use his armour without Tony’s active assistance. It was possible that someone like Rhodey could use a suit of armour if Tony put in the time to redesign the whole interface for someone without technmage’s abilities and adjust the inner dimensions of the armour to fit him.

Tony was keeping his attempt to control the armour with his brain a very personal project, and it would never see the light of day, if he could avoid that. Letting the world know about the armour had been enough of a risk, in that he just _knew_ that some political faction would attempt to seize it somehow. It hadn't happened yet, but it was almost inevitable once the government and armed forces saw any of its capabilities.

For that matter... So far, surprisingly, the emergency response cover story seemed to be holding. He hadn't expected it to work for more than a couple of weeks, really. Especially with the Board, who tended to be very skeptical of his attempts to keep his work secret until it was ready to be demonstrated and possibly manufactured. But Iron Man had turned out to be a popular enough 'hero' to merit a little privacy. _Of course,_ he mused to himself, feeling a dry smile tug at the corner of his lips, _being under Tony Stark's protection counts for something._

He and JARVIS had fended off attempts by just about all of the government alphabet agencies to hack his systems and find out Iron Man's identity, and the press had gone absolutely _wild_ for a week, badgering him into more interviews than he normally did in a year. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd had to reiterate his -- Iron Man's -- desire to keep his identity private.

Looking around one last time and wishing he could bring home a slice of the calm, he turned, beginning to somewhat reluctantly head for home. Before he'd gone half a klick, though, something strange blipped on his active scan and he thought he heard a hoarse voice calling out for help over the radio.

Mayday, mayday, may-- ... --questing assist-- ... 

A first glance around didn't reveal anything unusual in sight but him. No smoke columns to signify a signal fire, no abandoned camp sites... only snow, ice, and scattered patches of knee-high scrub. He landed, careful not to slip on the permafrost. "JARVIS?"

"Sir?"

"What is that on the scopes? I’m getting what sounds like a mayday call[5], but it’s very faint."

"Analysis suggests a life form, sir, though nothing appears on the cameras. Its location, based on instrument scans, should be approximately one meter ahead of you at your 11 o’clock, and two meters below the surface. There are, however, no cavities in the ground large enough to hold a life form, and I have logged no incoming radio transmissions. There are no radio sources within the correct frequency bands for ships[6] or personal aircraft[7] anywhere within a ten mile radius of your location."

Not even a shadow besides his own, Tony noted with a twist of dark amusement. Weird. With a mental shrug, he noted down the anomaly to study later. It might be an instrument malfunction or some bizarre interaction with his technomage’s senses, and that was potentially dangerous. At least this would give him something to do once he got home that wasn't connected to the paperwork piled higher than his shoulder on his desk, or trying to develop something revolutionary to move the company forward. Some time in the workshop spent tinkering and debugging would be almost restful at this point, even as annoying and tedious as debugging was.

He couldn't seem to reproduce the anomaly in his workshop, though. Writing it off as a random fluctuation, Tony forgot all about it and instead spent his time tweaking his sensors to improve their accuracy when scanning through ice and water.

Well, he forgot until it happened again. He happened to be flying through the same area five days later, when the same strange blip appeared on his scopes. He could hear the same voice, too. It sounded pleading this time, and near exhaustion. The combination was enough to make him curious.

Mayday, may-- mayday ... once again ... requesting ass-- ... --one read? 

What in the name of the Seven Mages could it be? Why was he hearing voices? It still wasn't on any radio frequency the armour could detect. His analysis of the last time he'd heard it had shown there was nothing in the armour's software event logs. No incoming radio transmissions had been recorded, though the presence of the life form had been. But here it was again...

Was this something to do with his still-new mage powers? Possibly a way that he was perceiving radio and interpreting it as auditory? He'd more or less worked out meantime that operating the armour was far easier than it should be. That it reacted far more quickly and accurately when he was operating it than when JARVIS was. His current working theory was that somehow he was managing to channel his mage powers through his tech and control it that way.

But what if there were other aspects to his new abilities? Ways to use them that he hadn't yet learned about? The emerging pattern suggested that his gifts amplified his technomage's abilities, allowing him to manipulate technology more directly. To connect to and interface with it, in some cases, as he'd discovered by accident with his cell phone.

And that would mean that he could be tapping into someone's survival radio or who only knew what else. Or it could be another mage, he conceded. He did know of a couple through Rhodey that could communicate with their teams without needing radio equipment.

“JARVIS, you sure there’s nothing here?”

“I do not detect any radio sources currently transmitting mayday calls. All current aircraft and ship radio traffic is normal.”

His curiousity piqued, he landed with a muted thump, knees bending to absorb the impact with the ground, and glanced around. Nothing but ice and snow to be seen, but his newly upgraded sensors claimed whatever it was, was about a meter in front of him. Predictably, the signal from whatever it was that had tripped his armour's sensors, was stronger now that he was on the ground. This time JARVIS’ analysis indicated some kind of tech.

Tony considered leaving the mystery alone. Maybe this was some kind of trap. There was always the possibility that it was some undetonated munitions leftover from the last great war, judging by the metallic signal he could detect now that he was on the ground, and therefore actually better left alone. It also felt vaguely like old tech and explosives to his technomage's senses. Two things he was intimately familiar with.

On the other hand, there were few people more qualified to dispose of something like that, and he had armor capable of withstanding the blast if he screwed up, to boot.

And besides, he wanted to find out what that weird voice transmission was. It didn't have the same 'feel' as a radio signal, wasn't adhering to the correct protocols, and he had a hunch it had something to do with whatever it was that was buried in the ice beneath his feet. Probably some ancient tech that was doing strange things to his abilities.

Decision made, Tony powered up his hand repulsors. He'd cut away enough of the ice to dig the explosives out, then hang around long enough to dismantle the thing. With a little luck, this would be done and over within 15 minutes. Then he could search for the source of the voice, assuming that it was anything but his imagination, anyway.

Carefully, he began cutting a three meter diameter circle, two meters deep. It would be easy enough to take pieces off of the resulting cylindrical chunk of frozen ground and chip away at it until he reached his goal.

Everything went as planned for a while, with the dark splotch in the approximate center of the muddy ice block slowly becoming more visible. He did a double take when the next chunk of ice that he removed and tossed aside sent fractures propagating through the rest of the block. The chunk of ice that all but fell into his hands had a bright splotch of color stuck to its surface. He stared at the torn scrap of bright blue fabric, stunned, then took a closer look at the larger block of ice in front of him. "What the fuck?"

Now that much of the muddy outer layer of ice had been removed and the clearer inner portion was visible, he could make out a figure encased in the remaining part of the enormous block. And it was holding a very familiar-looking shield. And their location was poised above what he now realized looked like a barren crater similar to the others scattered throughout Northern Europe. Only this was one that hadn't been found until now due to its remote location. "Holy _shit_. Okay. JARVIS, change of plans. We're cutting away most of the ice, and taking this guy back with us."

"Might I inquire as to why, sir?"

"Because I think we may have just solved a decades old mystery completely by accident."

It didn't take long to accomplish the extraction, but carrying the large chunk of ice slowed down his flight considerably. Not only did he not have access to his hand repulsors for propulsion and steering, but the ice block was unwieldy, heavy, and far from aerodynamic. And then it grew ever slipperier as the ice began to melt in flight, thanks to the combined action of friction from the air and heat from the sun as they left the Arctic latitudes.

Tony arrived back at the mansion in New York over three hours later than planned to see Pepper standing on the balcony, clearly watching for him and worrying. She did a beautiful double take when she saw his burden.

"Oh dear gods, Tony, is that--" she broke off, stunned into silence by the thought, and forgetting to use his call sign in her utter surprise. Luckily there was no one around to hear her slip.

"Possibly."

"Holy--" she breathed.

"Yep. I'm going to get him to the workshop and defrost him. Once his face is visible, it should be possible to identify him."

Pepper gave him a dry look. "Tony," her voice took on a tone of long suffering patience, "you really should let the police or medics handle this. They're better equipped for these sorts of things than we are."

"Nope. Not gonna happen. Pep, if those guys got a hold of him, he'd be defrosted and dissected rather than being allowed his dignity. Regardless of his identity. And it'd be a thousand times worse if he is who we suspect than it would be if this were just some random person."

Grudgingly, she nodded, conceding the point. "Alright, but be careful. If you're caught withholding this kind of a find, you will come under the kind of pressure that not even my skills can defuse."

"Thanks, Pepper."

He really didn't deserve her.

\------

Rigging up a series of heating coils was simple. Melting the ice was just time spent waiting and trying to distract himself with suit upgrades. It wasn't long before the layer of ice had become thin enough that he could get a good look at the guy's face, and his fears -- or were they hopes? -- were confirmed. This guy looked exactly like the Captain America who had starred in his father's old film reels, and the iconic shield was revealed soon after.

About three hours had passed since he'd started, and Tony glanced over to see that most of the ice encasing the captain's upper body was gone, and the rest wasn't far behind. Tony turned back to his designs, and tried to finally focus, difficult as that was.

When JARVIS had informed him of lifesigns just barely detectable over the background noise of the workshop, Tony had been staggered. It just wasn't _possible_.

But he couldn't just ignore it. If there was even a chance that he could revive this guy...

Suddenly half-frantic, Tony cast about his workshop for options. He'd need an ice water bath to put this guy in to warm him up slowly. He wanted to thaw the guy out, after all, not roast his skin and leave his core frozen. All that would accomplish would be to kill him, and that was the _last_ thing Tony wanted at this point.

He ended up grabbing five sheets of quarter inch steel and welding them together to make a rough box without a lid, seeing as he didn't have access to a bathtub in his workshop. The thing wound up being about one meter by two and a half, and half a meter deep. Ice and water were easier to find. Waterproofing the heaters and setting them up to slowly raise the guy's body temperature once he was mostly free of the ice was a bit more complex than the approach he'd used to melt away the ice encasing Cap. Ever so slowly, forced to let each small change propagate through Cap's body before he initiated the next, he raised the temperature of the water.

What felt like five minutes later (but turned out to be thirteen and a half hours when he later looked at the workshop's event logs as kept by JARVIS), Tony was startled out of his work by a quiet groan. He turned to see the Captain staring at him, at the workshop, and pretty obviously trying not to panic. He clearly couldn't move much, yet, and Tony was sure that wasn't helping matters any. He grabbed a coffee mug to rinse it out and filled it halfway with water for the Captain.

Tony had to hold it for him, when it turned out his motor control was still mostly shot.

"Where am I? Who are you," came the predictable demands, when Cap could finally speak again. "What happened?"

"Relax, Captain," Tony responded, using the rank he assumed the man had. It couldn't hurt, after all. "You're in my workshop in New York, and I'm Tony Stark. I found you in the Arctic, and brought you back here. I thought you were dead."

"I thought so too," was the dazed reply. "Where's Howard? How long was I out?"

Carefully avoiding the first question, Tony replied, "You've been asleep for, well a long time. Today's July the fifteenth, two thousand and eight."

The stunned look didn't disappear. If anything it deepened a little. "How? What? Wait. The war?"

"Long over." Tony eyed the blond. "As to how, I suspect the serum kept you alive. I found you frozen in the Arctic about... twenty-four hours ago. What's your name?"

The captain stared him down, expression very skeptical. Eventually he replied, "you know who I am, but don't know my name?"

Everyone knew about Captain America. Far fewer knew his name. That had never been fully declassified. Tony knew because his father had been involved. Pepper knew because Tony had mentioned it without thinking once, and he’d been forced to tell her. He’d cautioned her not to spread it around, given that it was still technically classified, but she knew.

With a shrug, Tony gestured to JARVIS to shut off the heating cycle and turned to grab his pair of workshop jeans and a mostly-clean shop towel from their place, draped over the back of his sofa. "Humour me. I'm fairly sure I do, and I want to make sure _you_ do. You've just spent about seventy years in cryo-stasis."

"Steve Rogers, Captain, Army."

Yep, it was him. Tony nodded, forcing himself not to give in and speculate, instead returning to the previous topic. He handed the Captain the pants and turned his back long enough to let him pull them on in relative privacy. "Here, dry off and put these on. They should just about fit, I think, and that uniform of yours is ruined." He hesitated, then added, "as to the war? We won it, but only because of your actions."

The Captain looked surprised, then offered a hesitant response. "And my team? Agent Carter?"

Tony winced, but managed not to show it on his face. That was a loaded question. "I don't know. JARVIS?"

It was only half a lie. He'd seen the surviving members last year, no, nearly two years ago, but a lot had happened since then, and he had no idea how they were actually doing.

"Based on available records, most are deceased. Mr. James Morita and Mr. Montgomery Falsworth are listed under addresses in Tucson, Arizona, and, Newcastle, England, respectively. Agent Carter's address is not publicly listed, but I can procure it for you, Captain, if she agrees."

The Captain had jumped when JARVIS had first spoken up, but quickly calmed. He looked at the ceiling and nodded. "Thank you, but who are _you _?"__

His tone was tightly controlled, but Tony could hear the hint of strain underneath. 

"As was alluded," the AI replied, "my designation is JARVIS. I am an artificial intelligence designed by Mr. Stark to assist in any work he deems fit for his, and by extension my, talents." 

Something seemed to fall into place, then, and his focus sharpened. "Wait. You never answered my question. Tony Stark, as in Howard Stark?" 

Tony scowled before he could stop himself. "My father. Before you ask, there was no love lost there, Captain." It was clear the man wanted to ask, but he held himself back, and Tony was grateful for the reprieve, small though it was. "And call me Tony," he added. "Mr. Stark was my father." 

Something in the man's body language told Tony that the Captain didn't believe him yet, but was willing to roll with the situation as presented for the time being. There was a subtle sense of mage power being used, and Tony was dead sure that it was being used on him. Probably in an attempt to determine whether the information he'd been offering had been truthful. 

"Call me Steve, then." He offered Tony a hand to shake. 

Tony took it a trifle warily. He'd heard about the Captain's, no, _Steve's_ enhanced strength. But it was no different from anyone else's grip. 

The moment passed, and then they were awkwardly pulling apart. If nothing else, Tony decided, Steve's calm was clearly a front designed to hide the mix of confusion and pain he surely felt, right now. Steve had the choice of either believing everything Tony had said, or nothing, and was probably torn between the two options. 

Tony knew he would be freaking out in that situation. 

"Steve," he eventually said, "I know it's a lot to take in, and you probably don't believe a word of what I’ve said, but give me a few days grace, would you?" 

"To do what?" 

"To make arrangements to quietly bring your remaining team members here, if you want," Tony answered with a shrug. "To contact my public relations people and have them start working on the press release. To make arrangements with my lawyers to help keep your return from the dead from turning into a complete media circus and subsequently an interdepartmental squabble over who gets to give you orders. To tell my assistant what to expect. To find you something to wear that fits properly. Take your pick." 

Steve considered that for a long silent minute. "Why?" 

"Why what," Tony shot back. 

"Why are you doing this for me?" 

"In purely selfish terms, I'm doing it for the social coup of reintroducing you to the world. In more practical terms, Aunt Peggy would march in here and verbally skewer me if I didn't at least offer." 

Steve nodded slowly. "Alright. You have a week. Bring them all here." He hesitated, then asked, "Aunt Peggy?" 

"Fine. JARVIS, do me a favour and send out the appropriate messages to the people involved, would you? Phone messages are probably most effective, in this case. And file the appropriate flight plans for the jet." He drew a deep breath, then continued, "Yes, Aunt Peggy. She and dad helped found SHIELD; don't ask, you'll be dealing with them soon enough, I'll tell you later. She was around a lot when I was a kid. Most of her team visited on occasion in ones and twos." He paused just long enough to let Steve absorb the information, then made an impulsive decision. "Can I ask you something personal?" 

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you want to know?" 

"Is it true that somehow the formula they used on you made you a mage?" 

Steve huffed in amusement. "Yes and no." 

"What the hell does that mean?" 

"It didn't so much make me a mage as it activated and enhanced what was already there." 

Tony nodded slowly, considering that information. "Thought so. Okay. We can have that discussion later, too. We can talk about it when I explain SHIELD to you. Or maybe never. JARVIS, see if you can locate a copy of the good captain's enlistment forms and contract, would you? If it needs hacking, I'll hack it." 

"I believe your father has already procured a copy. I would recommend checking the archives first. Documents dating from the appropriate time period are filed in section B-35." 

"Right." Tony clapped his hands together and rubbed them in anticipation. "Hopefully we've already got it. That'd be far less illegal." 

Steve blinked. "I haven't known you long, but somehow, I'm not surprised," he quipped back. 

"Remind me to thank whoever taught you sarcasm." 

\------ 

Luckily for Tony's slightly strained patience, it didn't take long to find the right box. Nor did it take long to find the document in question, which was (unsurprisingly) among the neatly bundled papers. He picked it out and moved to carelessly toss the rest back in the box only to have them plucked out of his hand and carefully slid back into the folder they'd come out of. 

Tony ignored Steve's apparent misplaced respect for the papers and flipped through the contract, reading quickly. "Terms of service, length of tour, assigned unit, yadda yadda... huh." 

He paused, surprised by what he'd just read, and Steve prompted, "well? What is it?" 

Tony stared down at the words, wondering if he was dreaming. "I'm not sure if this is legally binding, but this has a clause added, dated just after you... uhm... disappeared... which states that, should you not be found within six months, control over your contract devolves to my father, as part of the team who created the serum." 

"And that means?" Steve looked caught between confusion and amusement. 

"Possibly nothing, given that my father's dead. I'll have to have my lawyers take a look at it. It was part of his bequest to me, so it should be valid, but you can be sure the government will try to fight that. I have no intention of letting the alphabet agencies sink their claws into you and turn you into a lab rat to be experimented on, though." 

Steve stared at him, clearly uncomfortable with the statement and unsure how to respond. "Alright?" 

Tony smiled darkly at him. "I'm sure you don't like the idea that I'll effectively own you, and I don't blame you." Steve's expression did something weird, but Tony continued before Steve spoke. "But it's better that way. If I can establish that I own you, I can also set you free, and they can do nothing about it." 

That startled a short laugh out of Steve. "I suppose I can deal with that." 

Tony nodded, making a decision and spinning out plans as he talked. "Right. JARVIS, I'd like you to scan this into the secure database, and send a standard triple encrypted copy to the head of the law team. Have them analyse the wording of this and dad's Will. Don't tell them why or what for. Same MO as the patents we send them; should fall under the standard NDAs that way, but check it for me to be sure, will you? We can't have this leaking. All we need is to know whether it's as airtight as it sounds. And inform Pepper, so she doesn't decide to yell at me some more over this. It'll be enough for her to deal with as it is. Once word gets out, this will be the media event of the decade." 

\------ 

True to form, Pepper breezed into his workshop three hours later as Tony tried to convince Steve to let him analyse the shield, took one look at the situation, and started yelling at him. 

"Tony! What the hell are you doing?" She ignored Steve's half naked presence entirely. Tony had tried to find him a shirt but the options were to either wear a button down that wouldn't close or nothing at all. Steve had opted for the latter, as he put it, so as not to simultaneously destroy one of Tony's shirts and also still leave half his upper body on display. Tony hadn't minded the show one bit. 

"Trying to--" Tony started. 

She cut him off, and Tony rolled his eyes as she continued. "You can't just divert the law team on whatever wild goose chase you want!" 

"Pepper--" 

"No, Tony," she blazed, "I am _trying_ the help you run this company and keep the Board in line, and I cannot do that if you're constantly undermining me!" She finally seemed to register that Steve was in the room. "And who are-- oh." 

Steve straightened his posture, a slight hint of a sad smile in his features and offered her his name. "Steve Rogers." 

Pepper looked at Tony, floored despite the discussion they'd had earlier regarding Steve's possible identity. "Okay. What, exactly, is going on? Why is he wearing your pants, Tony? And why doesn't he have a shirt on?" 

Tony snorted. He'd just have to remind her. "Well, remember that ice cube and my theory? Turns out he wasn't -- isn't? -- as dead as we all thought. He's wearing my pants because his uniform was totally ruined, don't give me that look. I wasn't about to try to seduce an icicle, Potts," Tony heard Steve choke on nothing and hid a smirk, "that would just be cruel. The shirt... well, I couldn't find him anything in my closet that fit." 

"Oh my god," she pinched the bridge of her nose and ignored the veiled commentary about Steve's looks. "Oh my god! Do you have any _idea_ what this means, Tony? Fury will be on your case about a thousand times more than before, and half the world will want a piece of him." 

"Working on it. That might be what I was _distracting_ the law team with. I did ask JARVIS to copy you on that email. It's not my fault you didn't read it. JARVIS, pull up the documents we sent them, so Pep can read them?" Immediately, three holographic displays opened; one of the contract they'd dug up, one of the Will with relevant passages highlighted, and one of the email sent to the law team. 

"When I'm in the middle of a meeting, I don't have time to read twenty pages of attachments, Tony. And getting a very confused call from the law team immediately after the meeting ended didn't help!" 

"Also not my fault!" 

Pepper threw her hands up and made an aggravated sound. "When you want to, you manage just fine with paperwork, but this is just..." Pepper looked through them, slightly calmer now, then nodded, startled but satisfied with the work. "I suppose that's the best we can do for now. But Tony, you have to _tell me these things_. At least put something in the email subject to clue me in." 

"Hey! I did try to--" 

Steve decided to interrupt. "So now that that's sorted out... maybe I can persuade you to eat something, Tony." 

Pepper visibly relaxed, mollified now that she had seen Tony’s work and willing to be diverted. "I see you've already been exposed to some of his bad habits. That can be arranged. Come on upstairs, Captain, and we'll order in Chinese food or pizza." 

Steve gave her a confused look. "Alright?" 

Tony grumbled wordlessly, still somewhat irritated by the argument, but he followed suit. It wasn’t all that difficult to guess the problem, either; the man had probably never come across the concept of ordering food for delivery before. He wasn't totally sure, but that was probably a fairly recent trend. "Don't worry, if you don't like it, we'll order you something else and finish it ourselves." 

In the end, the Chinese food was declared Tony and Pepper's domain, but the pizza disappeared before they could secure more than a slice apiece. 

\------ 

Three days passed, and as they did Tony could see Steve getting more restless with every passing hour. It was clear he was used to being a very active person. In an attempt to get Steve to let off some steam, Tony showed him to the gym he'd personally had installed (for the relatively few days when he felt restless but couldn't go out) and invited him to use it freely. 

That seemed to help, but Steve went through all three heavy bags within a day. JARVIS ordered more without mentioning it to Tony more than in passing, but hinted that Steve might do better if he had something designed to hold up to his strength. Tony gave in after the third not-nag from his AI and did just that, having JARVIS and the bots fabricate and assemble the improved heavy bag which had several additional layers of Kevlar built into it. It was discreetly installed one evening during dinner. It got Tony a couple of long considering looks the following morning, but Steve said nothing about it directly. 

Then they finally got a response from the law team: the clauses sounded airtight, but without a specific scenario to analyse, they couldn't help effectively. 

Tony looked up from the email JARVIS had projected for them to read. "You know what this means, right?" 

"What what means?" Steve's tone was somewhere between amused and tolerant. 

"The media will try to eat you alive; no one will believe it's you except the government agencies, and they'll do their best to get you in their power; you'll never have a private moment again, sometimes even while you're at home; you'll have to get modern identification, and _that'll_ be a treat, with the way the DMV acts towards people who _haven't_ been missing for seventy years--" 

"Tony," Steve cut in when he paused to breathe, "we already know all of that." 

"Knowing isn't the same as experiencing it." 

Steve smiled crookedly. "But if I've never experienced it, I couldn't possibly imagine what that's like." 

Knowing most of his feelings showed for a moment, Tony laughed bitterly. "Trust me, you don't want to. Fame and fortune isn't what it's made out to be. And once you announce yourself, you _will_ be automatically famous." 

"You're forgetting that I was already famous once," Steve retorted, then smiled, a little rueful, and Tony realised he had another problem to deal with. Going by the way that smile had stopped him in his tracks, he was well on his way to infatuated. 

This was horrible. 

He did _not_ need to go and fall for someone as unattainable as Steve. This was the worst possible idea. Both personally, and for his secret identity. Trying to hide something of that magnitude from Steve was going to be hard enough without also wanting to tell him. 

\------ 

Two days later, JARVIS alerted Tony that his guests would be arriving. It took a moment for the import of the statement to register, and when it did, he swore. 

"Damn it. Of course their timing would be terrible. How long have I got, J?" He asked, setting down his torque wrench and hastily wiping his hands off with a rag. 

"Approximately one hour." 

"Shit. Do me a favor, and inform Steve, would you? I've gotta get cleaned up." Tony stood up and all but bolted for the workshop door and up the stairs into the open living area of the mansion. He considered finding a corner to hide in, then sighed. It would never work. 

And he would need almost the entirety of the hour he had before Aunt Peggy and the others arrived to make himself halfway presentable. He was covered in grease and motor oil, neither of which would be particularly easy to get out of his hair. Yes, his shampoo was good, but it still usually took three or more attempts to get all of the oil and grease out. And it was just as difficult to remove the stuff from his skin. 

Steve was there as he stepped off the stairs. "Tony? What's this JARVIS is saying about guests?" 

"Well, you wanted to see your friends, so they're coming here. Did you forget, or something?" 

"What, today?" Steve looked like a man caught red-handed. 

Tony wasn't sure why. Setting that puzzle aside for later, he replied, "when did you think? Next year? You gave me a week's time to arrange this. I figured you'd want to have them here before you make your official reappearance in the world by press conference. And it's not like they won't want to see you." 

JARVIS made a sound that approximated someone clearing his throat. "I took the liberty of not mentioning the Captain's presence when informing your guests that they were invited, sir. It seemed more prudent not to mention such over the telephone, and also to avoid giving the impression that this was a hoax." 

Tony winced. "Noted. Guess we'll tell them once they're here and sitting down." 

Steve huffed, amused. "You must have been a terror, growing up." 

"Yes, fine, I was the worst kid in history. I've got to go wash. Mind seeing what you can scrounge up in the kitchen? Aunt Peggy's tea should still be stocked somewhere in there." Tony ran a hand through his hair and turned toward his bedroom, undoing the buttons of his shirt as he walked. Tony only realised belatedly that doing so had revealed glimpses of the chestplate he was forced to wear, and the straps crisscrossing his back that held it in place. He made a point of ignoring it. He did _not_ want to discuss that with Steve now. Or ever, really. And the fact that he felt comfortable enough around Steve already to let that little secret slip was nothing short of stunning. 

Forcing his voice to work, Tony added, "you know the one, right?" There was a long pause, and he looked over his shoulder as he reached his bedroom door. "Steve?" 

Steve shook himself, and nodded. His smile looked strained but his voice was even as he replied. "I know the one. Go shower, Tony. You're a mess." 

A glance at his watch revealed he'd already lost ten minutes, and Tony grimaced, setting aside Steve's weird reaction for further dissection later. "Aye aye, Captain," he shot back, his hands going to the front of his jeans as he stepped through his door. 

The good thing here was that he’d been wearing the improved ARC reaktor he’d developed after his return to the US long enough that he’d recovered a lot. He could go for an hour or so without it, if needed. He was very glad of that ability now; showering with the chestplate on had been a real hassle the one and only time he’d tried it, both in that he couldn’t easily wash underneath it, and that it took forever to dry, staying cold and clammy and damp for hours afterward. After that he’d taken to using the old model with its parachute harness when he needed to shower and putting the chestplate back on after he’d dried off. Now, he didn’t have to deal with that anymore. 

Thankfully. He turned on the water in his brightly lit bathroom and waited just long enough for steam to start rising to recondense on the glass shower walls. Stepping into the spray and wetting his hair, Tony reflected. He hadn’t had the courage to try taking the chestplate off for over a month after his return Stateside, and, at the time, he’d only managed to go five minutes before he’d had to fumble it back on. 

Lathering up his hair and rinsing it clean was the work of a couple of minutes. Trying to get the oil and grime off his skin wasn’t going to be possible without a lot of soap and a nail brush; he knew that from experience. It would leave his skin red, but after the heat from the shower, he doubted anyone would notice. 

As he started working at the dirt, the water seeming to run black as it dripped off his hands, his mind wandered back to the chestplate. After Obie’s attempt to take the reaktor, it had taken him another month to get up the guts to try removing it again at all. That time, he’d lasted almost twenty minutes before the shakes and stabbing pain had returned. In a way, it had been reassuring. He was improving, and just pulling the reaktor wasn’t enough to kill him anymore. 

Well, as long as he had access to a spare within his empirically determined time limit, it wouldn’t. 

Forty minutes after he’d taken his leave, finally clean and dressed, Tony re-emerged from his bedroom to find Steve still in his kitchen. A few trays of finger foods were now set out on the counter in a colorful array of snacks. Steve had dug a kettle and tea pot out of God only knew what cupboard and was boiling water. Five cups were set out beside the stove. Before Tony could decide what to say, JARVIS distracted him with an announcement that their guests were arriving. 

Sure enough, the bell rang immediately on the heels of the AI's statement. 

"Well," Tony quipped, squaring his shoulders, "it's showtime." 

Stepping out of the kitchen and into the foyer, Tony waited; the last few times she'd visited, Peggy had rung the bell and simply let herself in. She'd never really stood much on ceremony with his father, and that had transferred over to him pretty much seamlessly. The Commandoes had followed her lead, in that. 

Familiar voices echoed down the hall from the front door, and Tony couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips, even as he knew he was in for a scolding. He'd missed these three. They were adopted family of the highest calibre, and it had been far too long since their last visit. Now that he could sense it, Tony noticed that there was a subtle aura of mage power around them. A low-level but consistent one. It really only made sense, considering that he knew they all had mage power in spades, even if he didn't know exactly what their powers were. That was in large part how the Howling Commandoes had pulled off the crazy shit they'd gotten up to during the war. He'd asked about their powers before, of course, and never gotten a straight answer; but maybe now he would. 

It was probably part of how they'd all stayed in such good health and so active at their respective ages, he realised. All of them were nearing 90 years old, and none of them had escaped their careers with SHIELD uninjured. On top of that, while the average lifespans of the populace were on the rise, 90 wasn't exactly young. 

When they caught sight of him, they nodded to one another as though satisfied he was alive and in one piece. They probably were, Tony decided, and offered them a smirk. "Nice to see you." 

Morita stomped over to him, limping just slightly on the ankle he'd broken a few years ago, ice skating with his grandkids. "Anthony," he said gravely, "you'd better not be in trouble we have to bail you out of." 

Forcing himself not to roll his eyes, Tony started to reply. Aunt Peggy got there first. 

"When _isn't_ our Tony in trouble? I don't even have to look at him to see the mage power he's suddenly throwing all over the place," Peggy sniffed. “And don’t even get me started on whatever that horrifying contraption is that he’s got strapped to his chest.” 

"Hey," Tony tried to protest, only now realizing that, as mages, they could sense the ARC reaktor. Hell, Steve probably could, too. "That's not--" 

"Oh, young man," Falsworth interrupted, "you know quite well that it's true. If I thought you would listen to us, I would suggest you let us show you how to use those new powers of yours." 

Tony grumbled a few curses under his breath before he gave in and let them all hug him, careful of the chestplate and its unyielding metal body armour plates. "Well, you're all in fine form, at least where it comes to berating me. Come sit down. You won't believe what I have to tell you. And yes, the mage powers are part of it." 

"See," Morita said to Peggy, "I knew it. When Tony says something is urgent, that obviously means trouble." 

"I never disagreed with you, Jim." Peggy's smile was easy to see, for all that her expression stayed almost unchanged. It was in her eyes and her bearing, though. 

Groaning and rolling his eyes, Tony gave up and simply turned toward the living area, walking off and knowing they would follow. "Whatever. You can speculate, or you can let me tell you what I have to tell you. Your choice." 

These three, the only remaining members of their little band of raiders -- well, until now -- had been through a lot together over the years, and it showed in their camaraderie. In the way they moved. They all knew each other well enough to anticipate the others' next sentences, and their trust in each other was pretty much absolute. In retrospect, their collective dislike of Obie should have been a clue. Peggy, especially, had loathed him. She'd refused to set foot in the mansion, hell, in _New York_ , over the last few years because Obie had been in the Mansion so frequently. The others hadn't come by either. 

And that meant he hadn't had a chance to catch up with them properly in the aftermath of Obie’s betrayal. It wasn't the type of thing you discussed over the phone. 

It was still very recent, really, for all that it felt to him like an eternity had already passed, crammed into those ten weeks or so since his showdown with Obie. The Board was still fighting him, unwilling to let go of the company's most lucrative revenue stream, despite all of Tony's efforts and Pepper's support. They refused to believe that the new direction he'd proposed could be even better, once they'd amortised the investment. Yes, it would take a few years, and yes, they would have to make a few sacrifices in the way of vacation homes and million-dollar bonuses, but come on. Idiots. He was tempted to fire the lot of them and buy out their stock options once JARVIS and his law team gave him the go ahead that it was legal to do so. Maybe he should find a way to fake them out. Come up with a plausible scenario in which he _could_ do that, could buy them out, and then offer them an alternative. That might be more effective. After all, he had the capital to do it. Fury had come damn close, that one time he'd tried a similar tactic in the mid-90s. He'd since sold a lot of the shares he'd bought up, to fund some of SHIELD's more expensive divisions. 

And, Tony realised, that was probably what they thought this was about. 

Well, in some ways it was. 

They were here, at least in part, to help him regain control of the company. The thought was somewhere between intimidating and reassuring. But that was a discussion for later; there were more important topics to cover first. Tony let himself fall backward onto the sofa, and watched as the others took seats around him, their movements only slightly more dignified. 

"Well," Peggy broke the silence, "what's this about, then? Don't tell me that snake Obadiah left you more traps and pitfalls to deal with than you've already found. I always told Howard that man was trouble. He never listened." 

"If they're there, I haven't found them," Tony replied, glad it was true. The thought that he might still find some was far from a pleasant one. "I did want to talk to you about that, but it can wait until after." 

"Well? Don't keep us in suspense, kid," Morita put in. "You just flew me in from Arizona, and Monty from England, so this better be worth the trip." 

Steve picked that moment to make his entrance, leaning against the kitchen doorway with a subtle smirk. "I'd like to think it is." 

Tony knew he'd cherish the looks of utter shock on all of their faces for years. If not for the rest of his life. "I found something in the Arctic," he put in and his guests turned to stare at him in growing amazement tinged with what might have been horror, "and it turned out to be a minor miracle." 

"Holy shit," was all Morita could say. The others looked like they agreed with the sentiment. 

Steve laughed and pushed off of the doorway. "Stay put, I'll be right there." 

When Steve disappeared into the kitchen, the others turned to stare at Tony. Tony shrugged. "He wanted to see you. I thought that merited 'urgent'." 

Falsworth shook his head with a chuckle. "I suppose it does. I'm not sure I believe my eyes." 

Peggy said nothing, but Tony could see the tears in her eyes threatening to fall and never quite managing. 

Steve reappeared with the tray of now-filled teacups in one hand, and one of the sets of snacks in the other. Morita let him put them on the coffee table before he stood and stepped over to stand in front of Steve, who met his eyes evenly and stared him down. After a moment, Morita punched him in the shoulder. "You asshole. Don't think I'll ever forgive this stunt." 

Without saying a word, Steve pulled Morita in to hug him. When they parted, neither stepped back far, and Steve's shoulder was damp. Falsworth and Peggy didn't let Morita step aside, either, simply coming in from either side to join them. The four of them stood like that for a while, arms around one another. 

Tony was debating whether to make himself scarce when they eventually let go, seemingly as one, and slowly resettled themselves in their seats. Peggy pointed imperiously at the open seat next to Tony on the sofa. "Steve, sit." 

A crooked smile on his face, he did. "You know, I never did like following orders, Pegs." 

"Oh, I know. I know bloody well how you ignored just about all the orders you were ever given, including Phillips', except in the broadest of interpretations. You've never bothered with them in your life. Not even mine." 

Steve's smile went a little rueful. "Yeah, well..." 

In the end, all three of them agreed to stay on for a few days. Steve almost exclusively spent his time with them; Tony avoided the living room. He did find time to talk over the changes he wanted to make to the company with Peggy. She approved of just about all of them, which, for all that it didn't change the public's perception, had the effect of making him feel far more confident about all of it. 

"Tony," Peggy asked when they'd hashed out the details of the things Tony had wanted to discuss, "why are you avoiding Steve?" 

"I'm not." 

Peggy huffed an amused breath through her nose. "You're never in the room with us when he is." 

"Oh, that. I wanted to give you four a chance to catch up properly," he tried to play it off. "It's weird seeing you three go all mushy." 

"Now, I know that's not true," she retorted briskly, lacing her fingers together and resting her forearms on her knees as she leaned forward slightly, "and given how hard you're working to avoid the topic, I'd say it makes you uncomfortable." 

Tony winced. "And if that were true?" 

"Then," came the reply, "you'd best take some time and figure out why that is." 

And damn if she didn't have a point. 

\------ 

“Hey, Tony,” the sound of Steve’s voice made him turn blearily away from the coffee maker. 

“Hmm?” 

“Not very articulate in the mornings are you?” Steve looked amused. 

Tony shrugged. “Usually don’t need to be.” 

Peggy and the two remaining Commandoes had left early in the evening yesterday, and he’d spent the first half of the night in bed. He’d spent the second half in the workshop, doing his best to forget the latest nightmare: being unable to stop Obie and being forced to watch as the man tore up the gala in front of his eyes. 

He’d been sitting bolt upright, sweatsoaked, before he’d realised that he’d moved, and then stayed there, trying to calm his harsh breathing, for several minutes in the dark. He was more or less alright now, but the thought still made him want to physically shy away from something. 

Maybe the way Steve was watching him. 

The conversation didn’t progress until after Tony had had his coffee, though. And when it did, he kind of wished he still had something in his mug. 

“Tony,” Steve’s voice was very careful, “have you thought about talking to someone about the nightmares?” 

What. 

“I’m serious,” Steve said, looking a little hurt, and Tony realised he’d said that out loud. 

“Who put you up to this?” 

“So I’m not allowed to be concerned that you’re spending at least one night out of every three in your workshop, rather than asleep?” 

Tony took in the say Steve carefully didn’t reveal his sources, then thought back over the last week or so. Huh. “It’s been a rough week. Normally it’s once a week, or even less.” 

That got him a measuring look. “You know, it’s not like it has to happen with high frequency before it can be valid. Just because you don’t get them this often normally doesn’t mean you can’t take action to reduce it even farther.” 

Tony gave him a crooked smile. “Good talk, Cap,” he stood and stepped away from the breakfast bar. “I’ll be downstairs.” 

Steve stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Tony. Think about it. If not for your own sake, then for the people around you that care.” 

Well, that narrowed the field considerably, but still didn’t tell Tony who had set this up. Without a word, Tony pulled his arm back. Steve let him. 

\------ 

The visit had done wonders for Steve, and had had the side benefit of proving to him that Tony's assertions about the state of the world were, in fact, true. 

On the other hand, the consequences had been interesting to deal with. In some ways, it was a foregone conclusion; Steve had very quickly decided how and when to go public about his return after Peggy and the remaining Commandoes had left, and by all Seven Mages, he would do it. Tony had had ample time in the week prior to and the three days since the Commandoes’ visit to find out how stubborn Steve was. In the end, he'd convinced Tony not just to call a press conference, but also to go on stage and introduce him. 

Or, at least, the decision seemed very quick to Tony. Steve had probably talked it over with his friends first. He was methodical that way. 

When the time came to actually _give_ the press conference, all of two days later, Tony found himself oddly nervous, for all that this was old hat. The assembled crowd of reporters started their usual barrage of interruptions and shouted questions the moment he was at the podium. He gave them a few seconds before he began speaking, making the introduction for Steve, as promised. 

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome. It's been a while, but I'm fairly sure you all still recognise me." 

The statement got a few scattered chuckles from the assembled reporters. They'd decided to keep the number low, and only include the major news networks. Tony could see representatives from MSNBC, CNN, and NPR, among others. FOX had done their level best to get in, as usual, but Tony's people were used to turning them away politely. FOX would get their copy of the news release afterward. 

"It is my great pleasure," Tony went on, "to be here today on behalf of an American icon." Steve, waiting in the wings, made a face at him. Tony shot him a wink as he spoke, making sure his expression didn’t change as he continued, "Now, I know all of you are probably wondering who I mean." A few of the reporters shouted questions, and Tony smirked, amused. "No, I don't mean Paris Hilton, or Shakira, or whoever it was you were asking about. No. I'm talking about a different kind of icon. I'm talking about an icon of America's glory days. I'm talking about Captain America." 

Tony took advantage of the confusion that remark generated and gestured to Steve, where he was waiting, wearing the new uniform Tony had prepared for him, specifically for this event. "Come on out, Captain." 

Steve gave him a look that said Tony would probably pay later for the cracks about icons and then simply walked onto the stage as Tony tried to fade into the background, and waited. The crowd of curious reporters had shouted for a while, but Steve simply waited them out, calm as anything in the face of such chaos. 

It was kinda hot -- the authority and control the man could project at will were amazing -- but Tony carefully did his best not to think about that. Those were entirely inappropriate thoughts to be entertaining in the first place, and during a press conference was the worst possible time to indulge them. So he throttled them back and forced them away. 

Eventually, the room quieted, and Steve said his piece. "A good morning to you all. You've been called here today so that I could take the stage and re-announce my presence to the world." A few reporters shouted questions, and were simply ignored. "My name is Steven Grant Rogers, and I held the title Captain America during the War. And, before anyone decides to ask, yes, the I am the original Captain America." 

He ignored the chaos his announcement caused, too, waiting the crowd out again. "If there are any relevant questions, I'll take them, but it will be one at a time," he quietly stated, neatly putting everyone in their place, and then paused a moment before pointing to a lady in the first row who managed to follow directions, clearly hoping to encourage the others to follow suite. Tony had to force down a groan on seeing who it was. Fucking Christina again. 

"Christine Everhart, Thomson Reuters," she gave her name, then immediately followed up with her question. "How do you expect us to believe a story like that without proof," she demanded. 

Steve simply shrugged fluidly, no sign of hesitation to be seen. "I don't. But it's true whether or not you believe me." 

That shut her up handily, and Tony had to hide an irritated scowl. Why didn't he get reactions like that? Damn it. It was nothing short of astonishing how people seemed to just line up to eat out of his hand. Tony was convinced that was one of the man's mage powers. Somehow he'd suddenly seemed solid and real and utterly convincing. The assembled reporters had given Tony their attention, and while he'd been at the mic he'd definitely held it, too, but it was nothing like this. This was verging on 'rapt' or maybe 'engrossed' in its intensity. 

Tony put a stop to that train of thought before it turned embarrassing. He needed to prepare himself mentally to fend off the million and one government agencies that were sure to come calling after this. 

Steve took a few more questions about the Howling Commandoes (whether he intended to form a new team, and did that happen to offend the remaining members of the old team) and what he planned to do now (recover and get used to the changes relative to his time), then called an end to the conference and left with a polite nod. 

Tony turned and followed Steve out of the room. The silence between them held through the drive back to the mansion and right up to the front door, whereupon JARVIS addressed them. "Sir, Captain, you have calls from the FBI, CIA, Army, and SHIELD currently awaiting replies. I anticipate that most if not all of the remaining government agencies with a stake in this affair will join the queue before the end of the afternoon." 

"Send 'em the standard 'no comment' letter, would you, J?" Tony didn't feel like dealing with them personally at the moment. He could feel Steve frowning at the back of his head, but ignored it. Well. Tried to. _Ugh, I can tell I'm going to have a hard time resisting that face. Fine._ "If they don't give up after a few days, maybe I'll deal with them, but the lawyers need a chance to work out the best strategy for this, since we didn't tell them earlier," he explained, outwardly still talking to JARVIS, but speaking for Steve's benefit and relaxing when he felt Steve ease up, understanding the move now. 

\------ 

“So you’re right back in the public eye, are you, Tony,” Carol greeted him with a crooked smirk as he walked into the main R &D lab. She had an office in the corner near the secured doors. About half of the cadre was currently in the lab working on something or other. Two glanced up and gave him nods, but the rest were too engrossed in what they were doing, and used to Tony’s presence besides. 

“You know me,” Tony replied. “Can’t live a week without making headlines.” 

“Well, this one should keep the press occupied for at least a month,” she shook her head in mock disappointment and turned toward the door of her office. “Might even last longer than your announcement about Iron Man. But that’s not what you wanted to discuss, I’d wager.” 

“Well, not really,” Tony agreed and followed, picking out one of the two chairs opposite her desk and slouching comfortably in it. “As satisfying as it is to know you’re keeping tabs on the news for me, I’m more interested in what ideas you and the cadre have for me on the new initiative.” 

Carol closed the door behind her. The move served two purposes; they wouldn’t disturb the mages outside and they would have some privacy. “We have a few,” she replied. “All of them will take several years to generate much profit, though.” 

“That’s calculated in,” Tony said, a little stung by the remark. “We can’t change directions like this and expect immediate returns. We couldn’t even do that with our weapons for a while in the 90s and early 2000s.” 

“But your Board will want them,” Carol pointed out. 

Tony scowled. “Fuck ‘em. They got us into this mess with their tacit acceptance of Obie’s bullshit.” 

“They still own enough of the company to cause a lot of problems, Tony.” 

“I know. I’m working on that.” 

He would have continued, but Carol held up a hand. “No, Tony. Don’t tell me.” 

“But--" 

“No, I mean it.” She turned the topic back to their original line of conversation. “Here. Have a look through this. These are our ideas, proposed development timelines, and budgets. There are variations on three main themes in there.” She paused for a beat as Tony started flipping through the folder, then continued, narrating as he turned the pages. “One: longer lasting batteries for the line of cell phones and tablets you came up with on a whim a few years ago. Two: high-efficiency power transducers and transformers to reduce the power lost during transmission over high voltage power lines. Three: energy storage through catalytic conversion of sunlight into chemical bonds. And we have some ideas for exo-skeleton prosthetics for medical therapy and construction work.” 

Tony mulled that over for a moment. “I like your first and third ideas. The prosthetics will wait a little bit until we’re properly solvent again and it will take a little bit of time to find ideas for that that won’t cause copyright infringements. Honda and Samsung have some marketable devices in that vein already. Tell me more about this catalytic energy thing. The longer lasting batteries should be fairly straightforward to develop, even if it takes some time to do. We already have some know-how in that arena.” 

“The concept is simple: you collect the sun’s energy with a solar cell or a solar farm, and then use that power to drive a chemical reaction that generates a stable fuel molecule, such as a hydrocarbon.” Carol replied. “It’s the execution that’s complicated. There have been a few trials. All of them bench scale, and done in labs and published in scientific journals. And, worse, they all say more or less the same thing: it’s a highly inefficient process due to side reactions that produce other unusable chemicals or that deactivate the catalyst. [8]” 

“Hm. That sounds like it’s an area with the potential for a breakthrough.” 

“Going to bend the rules of chemistry to your will like you do the laws of physics?” 

Tony laughed. “Going to try. Forward me what you have. Put whoever’s free in the cadre on the battery stuff.” 

\------ 

It took three more months to get everyone off their cases; the press mainly harassed Tony about keeping his discovery quiet, and Steve for 'passively accepting' Stark's ownership of his contract. Not that this was the case by any means, Tony reflected. The irony of trying to play keep away with the military wasn't lost on him, either; despite his relatively new shift in emphasis away from weapons, he was still making them all kinds of support equipment ranging from improved comms to flak jackets to lower profile and better armoured jeeps. And before that he'd spent enough years designing for them almost exclusively, after all. But Steve was worth the effort and the flak. 

_Yep._ Tony sighed to himself, alone in his workshop for once. Usually Steve came in to watch him work. _You've got it bad, Stark._

And the trouble was, it was more than simple hero worship. Sure, this was his childhood hero in the flesh, but Steve was a lot more besides, for all that they had spent a grand total of two and a half weeks together in the months since Tony had defrosted him. Being around his other childhood heroes had never made Tony weak in the knees. Never made him go all dreamy. Well, there was that time he'd met Radia Perlman[9] during his stint at MIT, but that was an exception. 

Of course, part of the reason for that was that a lot of his childhood heroes were long dead. La Grange, Aristotle, Euler, Euclid. 

For a long time, he'd wanted to grow up to revolutionise mathematics like Fermat[10]. The man had known at least five languages fluently, and taken advantage of the fact to read through obscure texts in Greek. Taking a cue from his historical role model, Tony had ended up acquiring several languages, too, albeit different ones than his idol had spoken. He'd never quite found the time to properly gain fluency in all of them, but he was good enough to get his point across. It had actually been a huge help when he'd started expanding SI to have proper headquarters scattered across the globe, rather than just subdivisions and daughter companies. Especially for the Tokyo HQ. Ingratiating oneself with one's hosts was a Thing in their culture, and the fastest way to accomplish that was to learn polite address. 

He’d thought he’d more or less grown out of the hero worshipping phase of his life, anyway, so it was amazing to Tony to realise just how quickly Steve's revival and reintroduction to the world had radically shifted his focus away from cleaning up after Obie and restitution for the weapons that had been illegally sold in regions of conflict. Changed him for the better, really. The rage and depression he'd felt on returning stateside after his rescue were slowly subsiding. The negative emotions were slowly getting chipped away bit by bit by the feelings Steve was somehow managing to bring to the surface. 

Not that any of it mattered. Steve was straight. That was obvious, given his reaction to Pepper over dinner after their first meeting. The stunned near worship had been vaguely painful to see. And all they'd done at the time was discuss contingency plans for the press conference Steve had been planning to give to announce his return. Steve was clearly into competent redheads. Their other meetings over the past three months -- that Tony had seen anyway -- had been brief stuttering things, but it didn't matter. Steve's admiration had been cemented that first night. 

And he was pretty sure Pepper and Rhodey were both laughing at him over this whole clusterfuck. 

Damn it. 

\------ 

The first time Tony went on a mission after rescuing Steve, he had to fake an emergency meeting on the West Coast and pray that Steve wouldn't question him or JARVIS too closely. Before or after he was through. Steve didn't know about his secret identity, and Tony didn't want him to know. Steve had made no moves to take the mantle of Captain America back up, and Tony wasn't about to make Steve feel obligated to help sort out the messes that were Tony's to deal with. There were still some Stark weapons unaccounted for, and there were also to occasional emergencies at SI's California facilities to deal with. 

In the end, this call-out took three days, one mostly destroyed suit of armour, and an assortment of minor injuries to sort out. The issue? The Living Laser[11] had infiltrated Stark Industries' facilities in California with the aim of stealing corporate secrets from Tony Stark. Iron Man had showed up just as the Laser had managed to get past the final layer of Stark Industries' well-defended design vault. 

In the ensuing showdown, a lot of damage had been done to the design vault, to Iron Man himself, and to the internal structure of the Stark Industries facility. The Laser had had a decided edge until Iron Man realised that he could match his repulsors' output to the Laser's frequency, and knock him out with the constructive interference it caused. Of course, in doing so, Iron Man shorted out a lot of his own systems and several fuses blew. He was left without flight capabilities, life support, or wireless communications. Essentially, the ARC reaktor was intact, but the connections to the armour's systems were damaged. 

The fight had taken upwards of three hours, and he was feeling worn down and bruised at the end of it. 

After handing off the Living Laser to the authorities, with strict instructions not to remove the frequency dampening wrist cuffs he'd cobbled together from parts of his gauntlets, he let himself slump back against a nearby wall. That had sucked. 

Giving in to the necessity, Tony sighed and walked the Iron Man armour -- thankfully the joint articulating hydraulics still worked -- down to the small workshop he kept in the facility. He was still wearing all of it except the gauntlets he'd cannibalised. 

He ought to be able to fix up the armour enough to return home with the tools he had access to here in Malibu. Thankfully he'd had the workshops installed long ago. It hadn't taken him long to get sick of not being able to go to his workshop on longer business trips, and so he'd decreed that they be put in place. He had one in all of Stark Industries' four major locations and used them mostly for small projects that he knew he could finish before leaving for home, or for things that he could work on anywhere, such as code. But all of them were fully stocked and furnished with tools and materials. Even better, he could use the encrypted comm unit there to contact Pepper, who would need to know about what had happened before Tony was called to give a press conference. 

And that was bound to happen depressingly soon. _Probably later tonight or early tomorrow morning_ , Tony groused to himself. 

It would take him two more days to fix up the suit enough to fly home in it, without access to JARVIS' machining rig. He could access JARVIS remotely from his subsidiary workshops, but didn't have the same kind of set up to machine parts here. He'd have to do it by hand, and that would take time. 

That still left the question of what to tell Steve... if anything. Tony hadn't told anyone but Rhodey or Pepper that he was donning armour and living a double life. And he'd only told them so that they could help him protect the cadre if he was ever unmasked. Willingly or not. 

Somewhat reluctantly, Tony decided to say nothing. Plausible deniability was a valuable thing when it came to the press. 

\------ 

Two days later, as he was relaxing in his library with a novel and enjoying the first bit of true downtime he'd had since before Steve had rejoined the land of the living, Steve approached him with a determined look in his eyes. "Tony?" 

"Yeah?" Tony eyed him curiously. 

"I've been wanting to ask you something." 

"What's that?" Tony wasn't sure what topic this could possibly be addressing, considering that their conversations up to this point had dealt with topics that ranged from modern politics, to fashion, to movies and music. Any and everything was on the table. 

Steve hesitated briefly. "Are you a technomage or a true mage?" 

Ah. So Steve wanted to address the issue of his mage powers. They hadn't discussed magery of any kind since their introductions, despite the way they could both sense one another. Actually, it seemed like Tony could still feel Steve even when they were a literal mile apart. He'd occasionally felt Steve ping against his mage senses from Stark Tower, knowing that Steve was either still at the mansion on Fifth, or out somewhere exploring. It had taken some getting used to. Tony forced a little of the tension out of his shoulders. "Both, though the true mage powers are a recent development." 

Steve gave him a surprised once over then nodded, his expression thoughtful. "That explains a lot. Have you pinpointed what your abilities are?" 

"Not yet," Tony made a face. "I haven't had a lot of time to myself to experiment with them properly since they manifested." 

That, oddly, made Steve smile. "Right. Tomorrow is Saturday, so you have no formal work obligations. Meet me on the patio at 10:00." 

"What for?" 

"We're going to figure out what you can do. Eat hearty at breakfast and we’ll bring some snacks with us. It can be a real energy drain at first." 

Steve had turned and walked away without another word, leaving Tony staring after him, rubbing idly at a bruise through his shirt. Well. This could get... interesting. He tried to go back to his book, but the novel suddenly held less appeal than it had before. He spent a restless night after that, caught between thoughts of finally figuring out what his mage powers were good for, and Steve figuring out who Iron Man was when he and Tony started showing signs of having the same abilities. 

There was no way he would be able to use the armour and still find the willpower to resist using his powers, with the way they allowed him more maneuverability in the air and faster response times on the ground. Not to mention the higher level of manual dexterity. And once Steve had helped him work out the limits of his abilities, that cat would be out of the bag. Steve would know what abilities Tony Stark had, and probably also what they felt like when he used them. Which would mean that if Iron Man ever showed signs of having the same powers... 

Tony groaned. This whole situation was making him want to get up, find the armour, and run to Malibu, but that would be just as damning. Steve would put together the pieces pretty quickly, if he did that. Not to mention the way that his little disappearing act would provoke Pepper. And probably Carol as well. 

No. He would just have to try not to do anything stupid to give himself away while he was in the armour. He could do that. He'd been fooling the press about certain things for years. 

When morning finally came, Tony dragged himself out of bed feeling more tired than he had been last night, and that was saying something. Dressing in the first pieces of clothing that came to hand and not giving a flying fuck what they were, he trudged into the communal kitchen and slumped into a barstool at the island, letting his head fall onto crossed arms with a groan. Steve was already there, and laughed at him. Tony was tempted to grumble curses at him, but managed to refrain. He didn't want to irritate Steve into pushing him harder in this... well, it was a training session for all intents and purposes. 

A moment later, Steve set a plate in front of him. "Come on, Tony, it can't be that bad." 

"Easy for you to say," he tried to retort. It came out muffled because he couldn't be bothered to raise his head, and ended up speaking into the sleeves of his sweater. 

Steve huffed, still amused, and added, "Tony, eat." 

Forcing himself upright with a complaining whine, Tony made a face at Steve and then paused, staring down at the plate in front of him. "Wait, did you cook me breakfast?" 

"If I hadn't, you'd have tried to get by on coffee and toast," Steve defended himself. "Eat. Or I'll eat it, and you'll get none." 

Suddenly possessive of the food, Tony pulled the plate toward him. "No need to get all bossy about it." 

"Tony," Steve's voice had a note of warning in it now, but that was belied by the smirk on his face. 

"Alright, alright," Tony gave in, "I'm eating." 

A half hour later they were settled outside on the patio, and Tony was watching Steve warily as he laid out the promised assortment of snacks. It amused Tony to see that Steve had brought dried blueberries. Steve had paid enough attention somehow to notice that those were his favourite when he was working. Tony wasn't sure how he felt about that. It made him simultaneously warm and fuzzy, and exposed. Not a lot of people bothered to learn that kind of information about him unless they wanted something from him. 

He didn't want to think that Steve might be angling for something like that, as though he was some kind of business transaction, but there wasn't a lot of hard evidence to the contrary. Circumstantial things, sure. But those didn't count. 

"Right," Steve broke the silence as he turned toward Tony. "What do you know about using mage power?" 

Tony stared at him for a moment, gathering his thoughts. That was on an entirely different track, compared to where he'd been. "Well, not a lot. Never really bothered to look into it, given that I never had them myself until recently. Carol always said it was like going into a trance." 

Granted, she'd almost always been complaining at him about something he'd done when she'd discussed using her powers at all, but that was beside the point. 

Steve considered that briefly. "That's true enough as far as it goes, but that's not nearly accurate. That would be like saying that you can play a symphony on a piano." Tony snorted, amused by the mixed metaphor, but said nothing as Steve went on. "It's more like a deep focus that lets you concentrate better. Probably not too far from what you feel when you're 'in the groove' as you call it, working on a project and not noticing the outside world. But mage power turns the focus outward, rather than inward. You see more of the big picture, rather than the details of one thing. Usually." 

Tony digested that for a moment. "Next thing I know, you'll be telling me to reach into some inner core strength and let it flow outward," he scoffed. "This sounds like that new age yoga nonsense." 

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. "Try it. You might like it." 

"Right, right," Tony rolled his eyes. "Don't knock it 'til you try it, I hear you. So what is this supposed to do?" 

"Well, we won't know until you test positive." 

"You make it sound like a disease," Tony quipped. He hated feeling inadequate or uninformed. 

Steve laughed. "Tony, you're resisting this a lot more than I thought you would. Quit stalling and _try it_. If you share any of the abilities I've got, I'll know right off; I know what those feel like." 

Giving Steve a still-skeptical glance, Tony sat down on a well-padded wrought iron chair, settling himself comfortably against the backrest. "If you're making this up..." 

"For the love of--" Steve threw his hands up. "You are quite possibly the most infuriating man alive. Fine. Watch." 

Tony watched as Steve closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Now that he was paying attention, Tony had to admit, it _did_ feel like Steve reached down into himself somewhere to draw on the power. Apparently he hadn't been making it up. It looked a lot like those yoga meditation lessons Pepper had dragged him to once, years ago. 

Alright. 

He was bad at meditation -- couldn't seem to clear his mind -- but Steve had compared this to his engineering trances, and that was something he could do almost on command. It felt bizarrely like conceding defeat to admit it, but Steve had been entirely correct in his attempt to explain. But this was somehow more. 

Closing his eyes and just going for it, Tony could feel something that... it was weird. There seemed to be a ball of power somewhere under his sternum, almost directly under the point where the ARC reaktor rested against his skin. Prodding at it where he imagined it hovered in his body felt like dipping his hand into a bucket of warm water with layers that had different temperatures. The first, and ‘warmest’ made him incredibly aware of the area around him, including Steve. He couldn't quite see it, but he knew where everything was, almost as though he was somehow touching all of it. Steve was oddly sharp, very well defined, compared to everything else around him; Tony could tell there was also a lot more to him than he could 'see' with whatever ability he'd just tapped into. 

Steve laughed, jolting him back out of the delicately balanced place he'd reached before he could try the next ‘layer’. "Exactly like that." Tony blinked at Steve, not quite sure what to think and surprisingly tired. Steve offered him the blueberries, before he spoke again. "So your abilities definitely include what was called 'enhanced tactical analysis' when I was still military. It looks like you might also have what we called ‘one-way communications’, but I can’t quite make it out. It’s mixed up with something else. And I can tell there's a lot more besides, but not what it is. Those are not abilities I share. But your levels in tactics are quite high. Higher than anyone I've seen in--" Steve broke off, then continued, his tone more subdued, "higher than anyone besides the Commandoes used to have. I haven't met many military men since... well, since before I went down." 

Tony tossed a handful of blueberries into his mouth and chewed as he thought that through. Steve had a look on his face that heavily implied he was fighting some memories. Tony knew the expression well. Too well by half. He saw it in the mirror sometimes when he woke not knowing where he was. 

"Steve," he eventually broke the silence drawing the tension tight as strung piano wire, "if it makes you uncomfortable to do this, I can ask Rhodey. I'm sure he knows someone. Or Aunt Peggy." Steve looked up long enough to meet Tony's eyes, surprised, as Tony continued. "This isn't something you have to force yourself to do. And anyway, I've managed to get this far without even knowing how to access any of it." 

"That's not how it works, Tony," Steve found his voice in time to interrupt. "Now that you consciously know how, you'll do it unconsciously, more and more often. You've probably _been_ drawing on it already, going by the amount of power you're projecting all over the place. And that kind of use isn't safe. Isn't controlled." 

"Of course." Tony sighed. 

"Just... give me a day or two. We'll try again." 

\------ 

Their plans ended up getting derailed. Tony was called back out to the West Coast the next morning to deal with the aftermath of the fight with the Living Laser, and that essentially pinned him down in Malibu for a week, organising the work crews to come in and fix the vault, supervising the repairs, and then making sure to improve the security of the whole building. 

In his downtime -- well, what there was of it -- rather than work on honing his control of his mage powers, he spent the time perfecting the autonomic control system for the armour that he'd been designing and incrementally testing through simulation since Obie's attempted power grab. 

Now it was finally at a point where he thought he could test it properly, but that meant inserting a series of transmitter implants under his skin. Sure, they were about the same diameter as the needle he was planning on using to insert them, but they would take a while to heal properly and he'd be sore for days. He needed to put one in for every patch of skin three inches in diameter. That meant four each in his forearms and upper arms, two on the underside and two on the upper. It meant a lot more needed to go in his legs. He was going to have to test them thoroughly without the suit after they had healed and maybe get JARVIS to help him tweak the transmitters' drivers before he could ensure that the rest worked. 

Thankfully he wouldn't have to put any in his torso. The arms and legs of his armour were far more complex to manipulate, and he had the Kevlar chestplate there anyway. He could just modify the chestplate to interface with a pair of transmitters in his shoulders, and save himself the trouble of dealing with the complexities of trying not to put the transmitters too deep into his torso and risk damaging more than just muscle or fat which generally healed easily. 

\------ 

By the time he was back in New York just over a week after Steve's attempted lesson on mage power, Tony's minor injuries from the insertion of the transmitters had mostly healed. 

Despite the fact that he was clearly fine and moving easily again, Steve pulled him into the kitchen and pushed him down into a chair. It was a cheerfully bright Sunday morning, and sun was streaming in through the mansion's windows, but that didn't help Tony's irritation. "Steve, what the hell?" 

"What happened out there," Steve demanded, his tone hard. 

Irritation gave way to puzzlement. "Nothing happened. In fact, everything went off without a hitch, for once." 

"I don't believe that." 

"Why not," Tony huffed at him. "JARVIS would have sounded an alarm if anything had gone horribly wrong, if only to alert Pepper." 

"You feel different." 

Tony raised an eyebrow at Steve. "Excuse me?" 

"Your mage powers are still all over the place, but they feel different. Definitely healing from something. What happened? Did you get hurt?" 

"No," Tony made a face, "but they are healing." 

Steve's expression hardened. "I'm going with you next time. Now, tell me. What. Happened." 

"Overprotective much, Cap," Tony shot back. "I'm in one piece, no big injuries requiring treatment. What you're feeling is something I did to myself in the workshop that left me a little sore for a few days," Tony phrased that part carefully. 

"You need to be careful, Tony. You have a lot of enemies who are willing to hurt or kill you to get at your inventions." 

"So, I should, what, hide behind impenetrable walls of plasteel? That's not gonna fly, Cap," Tony retorted. "I live a life that requires me to do dangerous things from time to time." 

Steve gave in with a sigh. "I know. That's what bothers me." 

Finally realising that this was all because Steve had been worried, Tony rolled his eyes. "Iron Man doubles as my bodyguard in addition to his emergency response duties. I thought you knew he was looking out for me." 

"Maybe I think it's not enough." 

Tony watched as Steve realised what he'd said and looked abashed, but didn't back down. "You are not my bodyguard, Steve," he replied after a long moment. "You owe me nothing, and don't even start about room and board or whatever it is I'm sure you're worrying over. That is something given freely. Not something you have to repay." 

"Tony," Steve said, his tone careful, "you gave me a home, and part of my family back. Even though you knew less about me than a stranger would have. That means everything to me." 

\------ 

The next few days, Tony was stuck playing catch up on the things he'd missed while he'd supervised the repair of the California facilities, and, as such, he didn't spend a lot of time in the mansion. It got to the point where he even fell asleep in his office at Stark Tower on Thursday night and subsequently woke up groggy and disoriented at 6 am. 

Anything he'd meant to do on Friday went up in metaphorical flames, however, as he ditched everything to fly out to a remote area in the foothills of the Himalayas in pursuit of more contraband Stark weaponry. 

It had been fairly quick, for once; he'd blasted in, destroyed the missile launcher, and blasted back out. They'd gotten lucky as he left, though, and tagged him with anti-aircraft fire, leaving deep pock marks all over the armour. It had left him feeling like he couldn't take a full breath, and thanking all Seven Mages that the alloy shell had held. None of the fragments of shrapnel had penetrated. But it had caused some small cuts and a number of deep bruises where the edges of the armour's plates had been dented inward far enough to tear through his undersuit and into his skin, and he winced to think of what Steve would have to say about it. 

He'd have to come up with a very believable story for this one. Somehow, he doubted Steve would be put off as easily, this time. And Steve had the entire weekend to mother him, to boot. 

The good news was that the transmitters in his arms and legs seemed to be working well. He hadn't had any problems throughout the mission and all of the explosions that it had entailed. Only now that he was flying home did any of them start to creak under the strain. And even that was only down to the software. Fixable. The hardware had held up perfectly, which was a relief. Digging the transmitters back out to replace them would be annoying, painful, and impossible to hide from Steve. 

He'd also noticed that he could feel the little devices more clearly than his technomage powers alone would account for. It seemed that at least some of his power had to do with manipulating electronics. 

And wasn't that interesting. It fell way outside the purview of the commonly occurring types of mage power. Small wonder Steve hadn't been able to pin down what it was or how it worked when he’d tried to teach Tony how to access his abilities. It was likely a result of having both types of power, he concluded. They were almost certainly interacting somehow. It made a weird kind of sense, considering that his power seemed to be localised behind the ARC reaktor, and that his already deft touch with tech seemed to be even more precise, now. Sometimes, lately, he felt like he could control the tech he built without touching it. 

But, he set the issue aside, first he had to get back to New York and find an excuse to leave again immediately. The less contact he had with Steve before he'd recovered, the better for his secret identity. And no, he pushed the guilt away, the fact that Steve seemed to consider him a friend and possibly even family on the same level as Peggy and the Commandoes didn't factor in this decision. They didn't know about his double life either, and it would stay that way, if Tony had any say in the matter. 

\------ 

Thankfully, Tony reflected, this time he'd managed to have the injuries seen to before Steve found him, and then convince Steve that he'd hurt himself testing armour components for Iron Man. Steve had been skeptical, but it was true enough, and Tony was fairly sure that had been the only thing keeping Steve from trying to pry more information out of him. He _had_ been testing out several of the new navigation systems he'd installed just prior to that mission during the flight. 

Granted, it had resulted in Steve suddenly spending a lot more time in the workshop, reading and sketching, but that was a small price to pay, if it kept his secret identity secret. 

The problem was that, even though he enjoyed having Steve around, the presence of the other mage in his workshop meant that much less privacy. If he needed to make a quick exit as Iron Man, that would be more complicated. As would dodging the social events Pepper kept trying to convince him were important to the company's image. 

The good thing was that Steve had found a way to show Tony how to keep his new abilities in control, to keep them from radiating out from his body like the light from the ARC reaktor. It had been something of a relief to know how to do that. To know how to keep it all under his skin, as it were. Anyone with mage powers would still be able to sense that he had them as well, but it would be masked enough by his technomage’s abilities this way to give him a plausible explanation for those not in the know: that he had developed the ability to sense mage power, but didn’t have the abilities himself. The technomages who could sense mage powers often felt like very low-level mages, themselves. There were usually somewhere between two and five attendees from the armed forces with mage powers at any given event he attended, with the exceptions of a few of the charity galas, like the one last year that had almost gotten him killed. 

"Tony," Steve's voice broke him out of his musings, "are you actually working or just pretending?" 

"Thinking," he shot back. "I do that sometimes." 

Steve snorted. "A little too much. If you're taking a break, come upstairs and eat something." 

"'M not hungry," Tony mumbled, fighting a yawn. 

"Sure, you aren't. Come on, Tony. I'll haul you out of here over my shoulder if I have to. You need food and sleep. It's after midnight." 

"Wait, what?" Tony blinked. That couldn't be. 

"Sir," JARVIS put in, "the Captain is quite correct, and I must add my support to his suggestion of food and rest. If only to ensure that your injuries heal quickly." 

Rolling his eyes, but knowing he was beaten, Tony stood. "You two are a pair of mother hens, I swear." 

"You inspire it in us, Tony," Steve parried the quip. "Thanks, JARVIS." 

\------ 

This time three weeks had passed between missions. Somehow. Tony still wasn't sure how he'd managed to go so long without calling on Iron Man. He watched the ground slip past far below him as he flew, and let his thoughts wander briefly. Iron Man could fly fast, but it still took some time to cross nearly 2500 miles. 

In the interim, Steve had forced him to take care of himself, and so Tony had been more or less back to normal after only a few days, barring some twinges from the deeper bruises left over from his trip to the Himalayas. It had been just about a month and a half since Steve's first attempted lesson on mage powers. 

Since then, they'd managed three more, albeit short ones. There always seemed to be something demanding Tony's attention to interrupt them, and, no, that wasn't contrived. The universe genuinely didn't want Steve to show him the ropes, and, despite his protests, Tony suspected that Steve didn't believe that the interruptions were accidental. The first time, Pepper had called with something he'd forgotten to do, and Tony had been forced to drop the lesson in favor of finishing the prototyping he still needed to do on the design she wanted. 

The second time, Carol had shown up with an issue that the cadre couldn't resolve without his input. The group he’d set to researching the longer lasting batteries had run into a shortage in some of the more obscure parts and supplies they needed, and could Tony sign off on getting them the alternative they’d picked out. 

“There, see,” Carol verbally prodded at him as he handed the signed documents back to her, “that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” 

Tony made a face at her. “This time. Most times it’s a lot more tedious and complicated.” 

Steve cleared his throat pointedly, and Carol smirked. “You going to get off your ass and introduce us properly, Tony?” 

“Well, I guess if you don’t feel up to doing it yourself, I must. Steve, this is Carol Danvers, former USAF captain, ace fighter pilot, callsign Ms. Marvel, and now head of my cadre of mages. Carol, Captain Steve Rogers. More commonly known as Captain America.” 

Steve held out a hand and caught Carol’s eyes when she shook it, a challenging smirk on her face. “Pleasure.” 

“Nah,” she replied. “Pleasure’s all mine, handsome.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Lay it on a little thicker, would you, Carol?” 

Steve laughed. “Tony, if I couldn’t handle a little ribbing or flirting, I wouldn’t have survived Basic, let alone everything else.” Turning back to Carol, he asked, “how did you end up working for Tony, then?” 

Her amusement turned into deadpan sarcasm. “Well, there aren’t a lot of opportunities for retired military to begin with, and that number shrinks a lot more when you factor in the rampant sexism in the tech sector. Stark Industries is one of the more liberal and forward thinking companies in the world, in that respect.” 

“It’s not like being female makes you somehow inferior. I never understood where all that bullshit originated from,” Tony put in. “If someone has the skills and motivation, they get a fair shot, here.” 

“You’re an outlier, Tony,” Carol replied. “We’ve been over this so many times. No one else in a position to do anything about it has bothered. Sure, they follow the government quotas, but anything more is anathema.” 

“Their loss,” Tony shrugged, unconcerned. “That leaves more brilliant people for me to hire.” Steve was staring at him, apparently surprised, so Tony added, “what? Too progressive for you?” 

“No. No, it’s not.” Refocusing on Carol, Steve went on, “there have been a lot of changes in the military, haven’t there.” 

“You could say that.” Carol grinned. “I don’t know all of the history behind it, but sometime in the late 60s, things started morphing. I only joined up in the late 90s, so most of the changes were already well-established. Tony could probably tell you more.” 

“JARVIS would know in a lot more detail. You know I’ve never been much of a historian, Carol,” Tony reminded her. “You’ve said as much to me many times.” 

“Maybe so, but you’ve lived through a lot more of it, albeit peripherally,” she shot back. 

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “That doesn’t surprise me given what I knew of Howard.” 

Tony stared her down, and Carol hastily turned the conversation away from that topic. “True or not, though, that’s beside the point. The structure is totally different now, I’d imagine. If nothing else, there are a lot more options than there used to be. Especially for women and mages.” 

Steve’s interest sharpened visibly. “Like what?” 

“Well,” Carol replied slowly, clearly choosing her words carefully, “not all mages are forced into officer school anymore, regardless of their wishes. And not everyone with healing gifts is forced into becoming a combat medic. There are other possibilities now, such as joining the pararescue corps or the Navy SEALs. Which is a program designed to produce fighters like your Howling Commandoes, actually. Black ops, strike teams, and the like.” 

“And after their tours are over?” Steve looked very intent now. 

Carol gave him a knowing look. “Angling for a job, are you?” 

“A job?” Steve gave her a considering look. “Are you offering me one?” 

Tony decided he wanted to find a way to punch Carol and get away with it. For the moment he settled on giving her a dark glare that she blithely ignored. She continued as though nothing had happened. “There weren’t previously a lot of options, and I’m sure you already knew that or you wouldn’t have asked. I’ve already mentioned that Tony employs a lot of the veterans with mage powers, along with the non-powered engineers and technicians that the armed forces produce.” 

Tony wanted to sigh. This was going to get awkward, but Carol had maneuvered the conversation into a place where he couldn’t object without looking insensitive or rude. And he didn’t particularly want to show himself as either in front of his guest-turned-friend. He was dead sure Carol knew exactly what she was doing, too. 

Catching his eyes with a smirk, Carol added, “What I didn’t go into was the why.” 

“Are you going to make me ask,” Steve put in when she paused significantly. 

“Nah, I just wanted to be sure I had your attention,” she snarked, knowing very well that she’d had that all along. “For a long time, ex-military mages were just left to their own devices, discarded like toys. In the mid-80s, there were hints that the Maria Stark Foundation was looking into starting an initiative to get them more engaged in society and doing productive things. That would have been fantastic, but it was never set in motion before the car accident.” 

Thinking about that was still vaguely painful, and knowing what was coming next, Tony decided to jump in. “In the end, it was up to me to implement the program. It was one of the few things Dad came up with that I fully agreed with. Stark Industries hires a lot of veterans directly, and that’s how I met Carol. After a couple of years, I put her in charge of recruiting among the mages whose tours are ending.” 

“Can’t say I don’t miss flying now and then,” Carol finished, “but this is fun, too.” 

Looking almost overwhelmed, Steve had excused himself, then, and disappeared for the rest of the afternoon. 

The third time they were interrupted, JARVIS had rather tartly reminded Tony of an appointment he'd been strongly considering ignoring in favour of the lesson. And, okay, Tony admitted to himself, the two interruptions that hadn't involved Carol were partly his fault, but that wasn't the point. 

\------ 

Tony made a face remembering it; this time, he'd been forced to hurry out of the room to 'find' Iron Man and 'accompany' him to the West Coast once again. Apparently there'd been a prison break resulting in the Living Laser's escape, and there were strong concerns on Pepper's part that he would try to compromise the vaults at the West Coast Headquarters again. 

Tony was starting to think he might have to empty the vaults and fill them with some decoy plans or something. This was rapidly getting ridiculous. 

Oddly, when he arrived, there was no sign of a break in, and the vault was intact, as was everything inside it. Tony had the vault emptied, and the contents shipped to New York, then settled in to wait. He spent his time designing things that deliberately didn't work to replace the plans that had been shipped out under multiple different security seals. 

Two almost mind-numbingly boring days and only six hours of sleep later, news reached Tony that the New York Headquarters had been targeted instead, and Captain America had made an appearance to recapture the Laser. 

With a groan, he straightened from his position, leaning against the wall beside the vault, his muscles stiff and protesting the prolonged period of inactivity. He needed to get a move on. The first step he took almost had him falling flat on his face, since his muscles hadn't unlocked yet. 

Catching himself on the opposite wall and stifling a curse, he forced his wayward limbs to cooperate, and went off in search of a private spot and some coffee. His workshop ought to do. 

\------ 

His return to New York went almost unnoticed by the media, in favour of reports about the damage to the lobby and first five floors of Stark Tower. 

Pepper met him at the mansion's front door, and silently followed him down into the workshop. Steve waited there, and stood the moment the workshop door opened. "Iron Man! I thought you were in California?" 

"I was," Tony answered, glad that he'd learned how to keep his mage powers hidden. "Mr. Stark sent me to New York after he heard the news about the attack on the Tower." 

Steve turned to Pepper and asked the obvious question. "Speaking of whom. Where is Tony?" 

"Still in California. He should be arriving in the next few hours," Tony interjected before Pepper could answer. 

"Good to know," Pepper put in, her tone a little sardonic. "He didn't mention that when I spoke to him." 

"I think he got caught up in some project or other. He was saying something about putting together some kind of communications link for the Captain if he planned to assist with fending off corporate spies and assorted supervillains in future," Tony shrugged, making sure to exaggerate the movement so that it showed through the plates of his armour. "If you don't mind, Captain," he added, "some privacy to get out of the armour would be nice." 

"Huh? Oh! Of course. Right. Secret identity. I'll just..." 

"Come on upstairs, Steve," Pepper said, putting her hand on his elbow. "We'll put together sandwiches or something. I could use a bite to eat." 

Behind the mask, Tony watched them leave the workshop and tried to tamp down on the jealousy he felt as he stripped off the armour and put it away in its secured display case. 

He was so screwed. 

It took Tony a couple of minutes to shake off the mingled want and resignation. He had a comm link to design and fabricate, and a few hours to do it in. Best to focus on that rather than Steve's lack of interest in him and his own too-intense feelings. 

It didn't take him long to whip up the hardware of the comms. Writing and testing the software took somewhat longer. Steve had reappeared in the workshop around what Tony suspected was midnight, to (ultimately unsuccessfully) try to get him to rest. 

In retrospect, stubbornly working on the comms until they were finished and ready for field testing had not been the best choice. 

Naturally, rather than give him a chance to recover, Tony thought sourly, the next attempt came almost immediately. It _was_ sound strategy on the villain's part, whoever it was, but it made Tony want to repulsor a hole in the floor. 

Here he was preparing to fly across the country for the second time in two days, because there had been reports that someone no one on campus recognised had shown up at the LA headquarters, with all the requisite codes and permissions to get in to see Tony himself. And it had been suspicious, because Tony had fairly publicly left LA for New York, so why would anyone who should also have a way to contact Tony outside his office bother trying to see him in LA? 

His LA site supervisor had called him at a ridiculous hour of the morning, New York time, to inform him, and Tony couldn't even begrudge the sleep, for all that he felt like a limp shop rag. 

Steve had somehow gotten wind of the news and insisted on tagging along. Tony suspected JARVIS' interference, but there was nothing he could say to dissuade Steve. That, somewhat to Tony's irritation, meant taking his private jet and losing several hours' time because he couldn't simply suit up and leave New York as Iron Man if Captain America intended to go with him. Steve, on the other hand, blithely did just that. He'd left Tony standing in the kitchen with a firm glance and a half-command-half-request to _stay put for five minutes, Tony_ , while he disappeared to get his uniform and shield. 

As promised, Steve reappeared five minutes later in his full regalia. Tony couldn't help but stare for a moment before he collected himself long enough to grab the suitcase with his armour in it, and five more minutes later, they were en route to the airport to meet the jet. 

"Alright," Tony broke his silence to catch Steve up on the events behind the emergency call, "so there are reports of someone trying to infiltrate the local headquarters in LA, on the pretext that they had a meeting with me. Our goal is to find out who it is and what they want. It may require a little more... subtlety than that uniform allows." 

"That's fair," Steve allowed, "but I'm not going far from your side. The last few times you were in LA, you came home injured. That's not a very reassuring trend." 

Tony snorted. "Now, I know we've had the conversation about the mother henning before." 

"I know, I know," Steve smirked, "but you're really not protesting overly much." 

"Oh," Tony shot back, knowing his voice contained several volumes' worth of skepticism, "would that get you to stop?" 

"Hmm," Steve pretended to consider it, "no. Probably not." 

"Thought not," Tony leaned back in his seat and flung one arm across his eyes. "Wake me up a half hour before we land," he requested, "we should discuss approaches and what-not-to-do's." 

He spent the next three hours of the flight catching up on sleep. 

\------ 

Tony jolted awake when the jet's wheels hit the tarmac. "Steve?" 

"What? You needed the rest," came the reply, no signs of remorse in Steve's voice. 

"Fine. Get ready," Tony straightened, stretching to try to work some of the stiffness out of his neck and shoulders. "The pilot had orders to take us directly to SI's private airfield, rather than LAX. There will be a car waiting to take us directly to Headquarters. He'll be taking the back way; I don't want to announce my presence here just yet." 

Steve undid his seatbelt and stood, slotting his shield into place in the harness on his back. With a glance out the door, he nodded. "There's the car. Your men sure are prompt, Tony." 

"That's what I pay them for," Tony picked up his suitcase and started for the door. "Come on." 

The car was designed with privacy in mind, with darkly tinted windows and quality soundproofing. Sliding into the back seat of the car and watching as Steve settled himself, Tony smirked, amused by Steve’s failed attempt not to stare around him. "She's really something, isn't she," he quipped, patting the upholstery of the seat. He didn't have a car like this just anywhere. They were reserved for use at the regional SI Headquarters buildings and for special events where his attendance was a closely guarded secret. There was one in New York as well, obviously, but there hadn't been a need to use it. 

Steve snorted, pretty clearly caught between amusement and wonder. "You could say that." 

The drive was a short one, covering a distance of less than two miles, and as promised, the driver took them in through the back entrance, ferrying them all the way to the elevator doors, and then stepped out to call the elevator for them. She was back in the car before it arrived, and Tony prodded at Steve's shoulder. "No need to linger and say thanks. It's implied in her salary. As soon as the elevator's here, we're in it. Got that?" 

"Sure, Tony." 

He was pretty sure Steve was humouring him, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that they couldn't be seen and their presence reported. If someone was trying to infiltrate SI, Tony's presence absolutely could not be made public. Involving the driver and risking meeting someone when they exited the elevator was bad enough. If someone in SI was a mole for whoever was trying to get in, announcing that they were here would either scare the attacker off or goad him into something risky, and neither was really all that great an option. 

Under five minutes later, they were in Tony's private office, behind closed doors. 

"Good," Tony said with a nod. "Now I just need to notify Iron Man that he needs to be ready." 

"Do that," Steve agreed, settling in one of the chairs facing Tony's desk. "It's reassuring to know he'll be backing us up." 

Tony pulled open the uppermost desk drawer on his right and pulled out a sleek black box. It opened only after he pressed both his thumbs to the sensors beside the lock. Inside, two of his spare comm units were nestled against dark blue velvet. He pulled one out and offered it to Steve. "Here. You can use this to contact Iron Man if our guy does show up, but I'll be needing that back afterward, if you don't mind. Proprietary tech." He paused and raised an eyebrow at Steve. "You do know that his first priority in the case of an attack will be to get me out of here, right?" 

"Yes, Tony," Steve agreed, the exaggerated patience in his voice bordering on mocking. "Get on the horn with him, and let him know to expect trouble." 

"No doubt he already does," Tony returned, but stepped behind his desk and typed a short code into the intercom on his desk. "There." 

A short silence fell and stretched like a piece of chewing gum, getting thinner and gradually more strained until it snapped. 

"So what do we know about this infiltrator," Steve asked. 

"Not a lot," Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "He showed up just after I left for New York following that false alarm. It may have been an attempt to test my security while they could be sure that I was absent." 

"They didn't get through." 

Tony snorted. "True, Steve," he acknowledged the point, "but now whoever it is also knows a lot more about my security and may even have found a way around it." 

"But that's nearly impossible," Steve protested. "I've seen your security protocols at the mansion." 

With a shake of his head, Tony disagreed. "Those are different, Steve. They're not meant for high-traffic areas like this Headquarters building. I only rarely have more than three people visiting at any one time in the mansion. This building sees more than a hundred times as many people passing in and out of its doors on a daily basis, and that's just the employees. That doesn't count the visitors, the delivery people, the drivers, the bodyguards of the important people... Security here is a lot looser. It _has_ to be to function." 

Whatever Steve was about to say in reply was pre-empted by a beep from the intercom and JARVIS' voice. "Sir, your attention is required at the vault. I believe someone is attempting to gain unauthorised access. Whoever it is has shielded their features, rendering identification procedures useless, and has very old but valid codes. How do you wish to proceed?" 

They hadn’t been here half an hour, and already there was an attempt? 

Tony turned to Steve. "How'd you like to go stall this person while Iron Man carries out his orders?" 

Steve smirked. "Fine by me. Tell him to bring some cuffs if they're available. We don't want this guy running off on us before we can figure out who he's working for." 

"Will do. Now go." 

With a nod, Steve was gone, Captain America taking over as he turned on his heel. A moment later, he hit the short hallway beyond the office door already running at full tilt. 

Tony wasted no time donning the armour, and cuing the comm link. "Testing? You there, Cap?" 

"I'm here. Iron Man?" 

"That's me," he quipped. "What's the situation?" 

"Don't know yet," Cap replied, the echoes of his boots hitting the stairwell landing coming through the comm link somehow. Tony made a note to adjust the sensitivity levels of the audio pickups. "I'm coming up on the vault in ten seconds." 

"I'll be there in under two minutes. Just have to get Stark to the jet." 

"Roger that. See you soon." 

\------ 

By the time Tony deemed it safe to get downstairs to the vault without giving away his ruse, the fight had progressed far beyond what he'd expected to see. The vault itself was trashed: the door hung from its hinges, wide open and deformed, and the interior had been ransacked. There was paper everywhere, some shredded, some intact, and no sign of the decoy blueprints he'd stashed here. 

Well, he thought to himself, score one for the honeypot scheme. But where was Cap? 

As he finished the thought, Cap's voice came over the new comm set. "Iron Man?" 

"Yeah, Cap? Where are you? What's going on? Come on, talk to me!" 

"Outside," came the short reply. "A little help here? This guy's slipperier than a greased up eel." 

"On my way!" Figuring he was safe enough while he was still inside the building, Tony took advantage of his mage powers just enough to give himself a boost in speed by increasing the efficiency of the bootjets. 

The quickest and least destructive way out of the building and to Cap’s location outside was through the stairwell to his right, up two floors, and through the hallways to the balcony at the far eastern end of the floor. It had a wide patio, accessible by an automatic sliding door that would make a good takeoff point. 

It did, however, mean that he would have to be careful to limit his flight speed, so as not to take half the drywall down behind him or set the carpeting on fire with his jetboots. 

Less than five seconds later, he was exiting the stairwell, and another two had him across the length of the building. JARVIS made sure the doors opened for him, and roughly ten seconds after he'd received the call, Tony was in open air and looking for Steve's distinctive uniform. He found it pretty quickly. Only problem was that Cap was currently flying through the air on an involuntary collision course with him, and Tony didn't have enough time to dump all of his momentum. They collided with enough force that Tony felt the shock absorbing elements in his suit activate, and knew that Cap was liable to have quite a lot of deep bruising after that impact. At minimum. 

"You alright, Cap?" 

"Nothing broken, Iron Man, though you're not the most comfortable landing pad," Cap pointed down and to his left, "first we have to catch this guy!" 

"We are going to have a discussion about injuries and ignoring them once this is over, Cap." 

"I'm _fine_ ," Cap stressed and twisted in his arms so that his back was to Tony's chest, "drop me on him!" 

"Not from this height, I won't!" With a half amused huff, Tony swooped lower, catching up to their fleeing opponent quickly. "And don't let him get the drop on you again," he added. 

"You do better, then," Cap shot back as he carefully pried Tony's grip loose. "Now!" 

Not liking the approach Cap had picked, but left with little choice, Tony followed orders. And followed up the move by dropping to the ground just between the now-toussling pair and the main gate of the headquarters building. A nondescript sedan waited near the gate, its nose pointed out toward the road. A getaway car, if his instincts could be trusted. He carefully positioned himself between their would-be thief and the car, taking pot shots when Cap left him openings to do so. There wasn’t too much he could do to help while the fight was primarily hand-to-hand, so he tried to work out who the guy was. JARVIS was taking images of the guy’s face as Tony circled above the pair of combatants and comparing them to the mug shots in the local police databases. 

Cap was slowly gaining the upper hand in the fight, and Tony couldn't help but be impressed. Whoever this guy was, he was damn good; even most supervillains didn't last more than a quarter of an hour against Cap, to hear him tell it. Tony could tell that Cap was holding back, pulling his punches and trying not to injure the guy. 

It was tempting to use his repulsors to knock out the spy, but with the way the two fighters were squirming around and always trading the advantage, he couldn't do it and still be sure not to hit Cap. Not without taking advantage of the powers he couldn't use while Cap was around if he wanted to maintain his secret identity. 

There was a weird hum of tech around the villain that Tony hoped wouldn’t become an inopportune distraction from the fight itself as he investigated it. It felt like a remote control of some kind, but he couldn’t pin down what it was supposed to do. It wasn’t tech he’d designed or ever come across before. 

In his preoccupation with the tech, he didn’t immediately realize that the spy was slowly maneuvering so that he was within easy reach of the getaway car. Finding an opening, the guy managed to break loose of Cap's hold and bolt for the car. He was in it in a flash, moving almost as quickly as the Laser had, and speeding off toward the highway before Cap was back on his feet. 

"Hey, Iron Man," Cap called through the comm link, "give me a lift! We can still catch him!" 

Thus distracted by his backup at the crucial moment, Tony missed his opportunity to shoot out one of the tires or otherwise sabotage the car. He really should have done that to begin with, Tony thought angrily as he dropped down to pick up Cap. The wasted time rankling and making him want to scream in frustration as they rose back into the air. 

Then, to make matters worse, just before he disappeared off the edge of SI's campus the spy paused just long enough to use some sort of long-distance deactivator on the armour, nullifying the power the ARC reaktor had been feeding to his jetboots and dropping Tony out of the sky with Steve's horrified shout of dismay ringing in his ears. 

He automatically reached for his mage powers as he fell, trying to find a way to feed enough power into the armour to catch himself, before he remembered that he _couldn't_. 

Of course, by the time he'd worked that out, the ground was mere meters away, and it would have been too late regardless. Steve pushed away from the armour, twisting his torso like a gymnast to land lightly on his feet a split second before the Tony crashed down to earth. 

Tony hit the ground hard, feet first. Thankfully, he managed to take part of the impact of the landing in his knees before he collapsed, sprawled out prone on the ground with his limbs tangled, doing his best to force his lungs to work properly past the pain in his chest. He was fine, or would be in a few minutes. 

He was more concerned with the way the ARC reaktor spell had stuttered when the shutdown signal had hit him. He'd been fairly sure that there were no devices or spells available that could do anything like that. He'd done his best to ensure that the spell housing couldn't be broken or the spell itself extinguished. It was hardened against mage power, as well as normal tech. That had been at the forefront of his mind as he’d first designed it; he hadn’t wanted the Ten Rings’ pet mages to have a way to take him out before he could get out of the camp, or shut down his offensive capabilities from a distance. 

Also near the forefront of his thoughts was the question of how the spy had gotten a hold of that deactivator. To the best of his knowledge, no one knew what was powering Iron Man's armour, and so no one should have been able to even come up with the tech to take him out, nevermind to do it as effectively as that. There was clearly some other unknown factor in play here, possibly someone with the ability to get that kind of tightly guarded information about Iron Man, and that was an uncomfortable thought. What he didn’t know, he couldn’t counter. 

"Iron Man!" 

Cap didn't see things the same way he did, though, Tony noted; his friend was clearly more concerned with Iron Man’s potential injuries than with the escaping villain or the plans the man was escaping with. But that didn’t change the fact that Tony was distantly gratified by the stunned horror he could see. Cap hurried over, skidded to a stop, and dropped to his knees next to the armour, his hands fluttering like he wanted to do something but wasn’t sure what or how. All Tony could do for a long moment was stare up at him. Cap carefully straightened out Tony’s legs before he rolled Tony onto his back. 

Tony groaned, a flash of pain jolting up his spine like a flash of light that melted into red heat and-- He _hurt_ from the crown of his head to his knees. It felt weirdly like he was being temporarily disconnected from his body; he couldn't seem to find the will to move. Tony coughed and tried unsuccessfully to roll himself up onto his side and curl into a fetal position. It ended up looking more like a series of random twitches. 

"Iron Man! Come on, say something!" The tightly leashed fear and anger in Steve's voice reminded him that he should be trying to remember what words were. 

"'M fine, Cap. Don't worry about me. Just a man in a tin can." 

"Come on, Shellhead, you know that's not true," Cap replied, his expression serious, not seeming to even notice his use of the newly-coined nickname. He all but tore the shield off his arm to slot it into the harness on his back and started running his hands over the armour. "You may have a fancy suit of armour, but I know you bleed red like the rest of us. And you are _not_ expendable! Stay there. I'll call for help." 

"Sorry, _Winghead_ ," Tony gritted out through his teeth, managing to sit up now that his control over his muscles was returning, "no can do. I need to get back into the building. I need to get to Mr. Stark's workshop, pronto; he has a secure line to New York there." 

"You're injured!" Cap sounded like he was caught between sympathy, understanding, and disapproval. 

"Nothing broken. I just got the wind knocked out of me. I need to speak to Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts immediately. This is important." 

"More important than getting checked out?" Cap challenged. 

"Quite possibly. Those plans that were stolen? Those were some of Mr. Stark's more recently developed blueprints. None of them has even gotten to the Board yet. He warned me to keep an eye on them." 

Cap gave him a long look, obviously more reassured with every moment Tony maintained the cogency of his speech, before he reluctantly agreed. "Fine, you're obviously not concussed, but I'm coming with you, and you're getting checked out afterwards. I'm no medic, and I will not be party to you ignoring an injury that could easily be dealt with." 

For crying out loud. Tony let his head fall back. His helmet hit the pavement with a metallic clang that felt like it echoed through his skull. 

Great. Tony didn't bother to stifle the groan. "You're being a ridiculous mother hen. You got hit much worse than I did with the way that guy threw you into me. I'd wager you're bruised to hell and back." 

"I heal fast. Perk of the serum. You don't." Cap answered after a short silence. He put a firm hand on the shoulder of the armour before he stepped back and pulled Tony to his feet. He was there, steadying Tony when he stumbled, just a little off balance due to the weight of the armour. 

_Now_ how was he supposed to keep his identity secret? Cap couldn't be allowed to find out that Iron Man and Tony Stark wore identical chestplates and had identically scarred hands. It would give him away for sure. Keeping his mage gifts under wraps while he was in the suit was hard enough. 

"Oh, thanks for reminding me that I'm not juiced up on whatever cocktail they pumped into you," Tony quipped back, turning back toward the main doors of the Headquarters building. "How ever will I survive?" 

Cap huffed, amused. "With your customary stubbornness, I'd guess." 

"Everyone's a critic." 

\------ 

Sitting back in his seat, back on his private jet once more, Tony thought back on the last hour and a half. They were currently somewhere over the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and the process of getting there had been only slightly smoother than the mission itself. 

The conversation with Ms. Potts had been short and to the point. Tony had almost wished he could draw it out longer and avoid Cap's inevitable insistence that he get checked out by a medic. It had taken some arguing, but he'd convinced Cap that either only the armour on his back was coming off, or they were going back to New York before he was getting checked out. Cap had given him a long once over before agreeing to the conditions, and 'helped' Tony out of the armour on the spot. The medic Cap had conjured seemingly out of thin air to poke and prod at Tony had pronounced him lightly bruised but otherwise intact. Or at least, as close to intact as could be determined without seeing his front. 

He'd enlisted both the medic and Cap to help him back into his armour. It was difficult to get the back plate on without help unless it was sliding on at the same time as the breastplate. It hadn't taken long after that for Tony to redirect the medic into turning his attention on Cap, who was subsequently pronounced banged up but healing. Cap had picked up three cracked ribs and some spectacular black and blue bruises, but all of his injuries were already fading, and that tidbit of knowledge had made Tony scowl in a fit of jealousy. The bruises were already starting to go yellow at the edges, and the ribs weren't actually causing him much pain anymore. Cap had turned to the medic once he was suited up again, and thanked him. 

They'd hustled directly to the jet, where he'd told Cap to pick a seat while he fetched Mr. Stark out of the secure compartment at the back of the craft. He'd let himself in, stripped off the armour, and stuffed it back into its suitcase before he sauntered back out into the main passenger compartment. 

Cap had shed most of the outer layer of his uniform, and was just pulling on a fresh shirt when Tony took the seat across the aisle from him and leaned back, letting his eyes fall closed. 

"Tony?" 

"Yeah?" Tony didn't bother opening his eyes. 

"Are you alright?" 

Despite everything, the question brought a faint smile to his face; he could feel it tugging at his lips. "I'm fine, Steve. More frustrated than anything. That deactivator ray, or whatever it is, shouldn't have been able to do anything to Iron Man, and a lot of my designs are now in the wind." 

Steve hung his head for a moment. "I'm sorry about that. I was more worried about making sure Iron Man was fine." 

"And we both appreciate that. But now I have a problem." 

“We’ll deal with it. Where is Iron Man, for that matter?” 

“Resting in the secure compartment at the back of the plane. There’s a bed in there that’s more comfortable than the seats out here, even if they do recline.” 

A silence had fallen and stretched, then, continuing unbroken for long enough that Tony decided the conversation was over, and tried to get comfortable enough to sleep. 

When the pilot announced that they were making their final approach on New York three and a half hours later, Tony stood long enough to go assemble the armour empty, for JARVIS to pilot until they were back at the mansion. Cap would ask awkward questions if they didn't all leave the plane. 

They were met at the bottom of the stairs by Pepper and Carol, both looking grim and serious. 

"Pepper! Light of my life!" Tony flung his arms wide. 

Carol rolled her eyes at him. "Tony, this is serious." 

"Moderately," he conceded. "Let's get back to the mansion where we can talk privately." 

"That's the first sensible thing I've heard you say in a while," Pepper griped at him, clearly stressed and irritable. She hadn’t been thrilled that he’d taken up the mantle of Iron Man and started jetting around the world destroying the weapons Stane had illegally sold. She was sure he would get himself killed doing it. 

The knowledge ate at her, Tony knew. At times like this he wished he could have spared her the knowledge, but she _had_ to know to be able to help him stampede the Board in the right direction and otherwise keep things running smoothly at Stark Industries. And, well, it wasn’t that she was wrong, exactly. There was a good chance that it could come to pass that way. But he needed to do this. For himself, and for the innocent people whose lives were destroyed by those illegal weapons. 

"I'm not sure that was particularly sensible," Carol retorted, her tone tight and almost worried for most of the same reasons, though she didn’t know about his dual identity. "It was the obvious next step, and the one we were clearly here to enforce. If he didn’t work that out just seeing us, I’d have to revoke his ‘genius’ title." 

Tony sighed. Neither of them was in the mood to let him lighten the atmosphere, so he gave up. They had heard about the failure of his attempt to keep the vault door closed, and were rightfully concerned. Although... Carol was eying Steve in a way that made Tony distinctly nervous on his behalf. She looked like she wanted to eat him. Or possibly have sex with him. Whichever came first. Shaking off the feeling of jealousy that thought engendered, he replied. "Then shouldn't you be happy that I'm going along with it and not making a fuss?" 

"Come on, Tony," Steve put in as he watched the interplay, his expression one of reluctant amusement. "I'll second the motion to go back to the mansion. I want a shower." 

"Aye captain," Tony replied, throwing an arm over Steve's shoulders and steering him toward the waiting car, "let's get out of here. Pepper, Carol, we have a few things to discuss in detail when you’re a little less mad at the universe and less likely to get mad at either of us. You don’t have all the information on the magnitude of this particular fire, and if you’ll give me a chance, I think I can explain." 

Pepper and Carol exchanged an exasperated look that said they thought he’d lose track of his head if they didn’t make sure it was glued on for him that he pointedly ignored, but they followed his lead after a moment. 

\------ 

When Tony and Steve were cleaned up and dressed in clean clothes, they reconvened in the mansion's library by unspoken accord. Pepper and Carol were already there, both seated in wingback armchairs with posture reminiscent of royalty. 

Pepper eyed Steve for a moment before she opened the discussion. "Tony, should Steve be here? This is about as corporate secret as things can get where you're involved." 

Tony made a face, knowing she was referring to the way he’d tended to share his blueprints and prototypes with Obie as he worked on them, even the ones requiring the highest security clearances. "You have a point, Pep, but there are actually several reasons in favor of having him here. Firstly, and most importantly, we may need his help and Iron Man's to deal with this mess. Secondly, who better to have on our side, if the media gets wind of this? He has a lot of social capital that I don't." Tony paused, and Carol nodded thoughtfully. Pepper still looked skeptical. "And lastly, if I'm any judge of character he'd insist on helping somehow. Why not let him?" 

Carol gave Steve a long once-over before she spoke. "You may very well be right, Tony, but you've only known this guy for a handful of weeks. You knew Obie for over thirty years, and he had you fooled right up to the end." 

Steve, obviously uncomfortable with being talked about like this, spoke up. "Obie?" 

Tony winced. "Long story. Guy tried to kill me. He's dead." 

"Alright," Steve nodded slowly, "we can talk about that later. What can I do to convince you that I want to help, Pepper?" 

"Fine, I'll give you a chance. If we can't rely on Captain America, who can we trust?" Pepper made a frustrated sound. "I trust you, within reasonable limits, but you have to admit, this is way beyond what we could simply expect just anyone outside the cadre to help us with." 

"That may be true, ma'am," Steve retorted, "but I'm not just anyone." 

Carol snorted, amused despite the tension of the situation. "I suppose that's fair," she said with an approving nod, then turned to Tony. "Now, spill. What happened out there?" 

Tony shrugged. "Simply put, someone got into the building, forced the vault somehow, took the plans and escaped." 

"Why are you being so calm about this?" Pepper eyed him. "You're hiding something." 

"Well," Tony drew out the word slightly, "I may have pre-emptively replaced the legitimate plans that were in there with a pile of 'inventions' that don't actually work, after the attempted break in by the Living Laser." 

Steve looked affronted. "So Iron Man risked his life needlessly over fake blueprints?" 

Carol raised an eyebrow. "No righteous indignation about the risks to yourself, Captain?" 

"I accepted the possible consequences of being in my line of work long ago. Iron Man is still new to this, and I'd like him to live long enough to come to the same conclusions," Steve replied, posture stiff and tone angry. 

Tony sighed. "Steve, I didn't tell anyone I switched out the plans, including Pepper and Iron Man, for a _reason_. If word had leaked out about that, our spy would never even have shown his face. Yes, ideally he'd have made a mistake in his attempt to steal the plans and you and Iron Man would have caught him. But, this way we still have the advantage, as well as some assurance that I can prevent any damage to SI's reputation. Given that our thief escaped and we can't do anything about that, and given that the plans he stole are decoys, now all we have to do to find the man who hired him is some detective work. If anyone corrects the plans I deliberately designed incorrectly, I can sue the pants off whoever's manufacturing the device based on copyright and intellectual property laws, given that I have those plans in duplicate here in New York, with signature and date. Granted, there's some wiggle room based on the fact that I haven't patented or registered them, but the lawyers have enough to work with, here, I think. And at the very least, I can make a big stink about it in the media. Anyone manufacturing the devices as-is will have a non-functional product, and then will subsequently have the pants sued off of them for similar reasons." 

Steve gave him a long look then a nod, mostly mollified by that answer. Carol nodded approvingly, once he'd finished. "And by interrogating the manufacturers," she added, "we can trace things back along the chain of command." 

Pepper smiled, satisfied, the expression holding a vicious edge. "So for now we wait, then." 

"For now, we wait," Tony confirmed with a nod. That was as good as an apology for the scene at the airport, and he knew her well enough to see that. "And then you can use any and all legal means to help us hunt down these assholes. In this situation, the law team gets a bonus if we win any lawsuit they prepare. Tell them five percent of the winnings to split among the team or ten thousand dollars each, whichever is larger." 

Carol's glee was palpable. "That should motivate them." 

“Before we conclude,” Pepper spoke into the short silence that followed Carol’s statement, “Tony, Dr. Richards has been pushing me to schedule him a meeting with you about some incomprehensible statistical anomaly or other.” 

Tony groaned. “With or without his team?” 

“With them, I think.” 

“Great. That probably means he and his superpowered family of inept superheroes have discovered something new that will potentially cause the end of the world.” 

Pepper raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re being melodramatic, Tony. All I wanted was a yes or no.” 

“I’ll drop him a line. If it’s actually something important, I’ll let you know. That man has no conception of how to talk to laypeople.” 

Carol snorted. “No kidding. If I hadn’t already known enough about science to keep up with you when you hired me, I wouldn’t have been able to follow a word he said when he tried to waltz into R &D and tell us how to do our jobs.” 

That had not been a good first introduction. Tony winced, remembering. “I tried to keep him distracted. He insisted.” 

“I know. But that didn’t keep me from wanting to either kick him out bodily or strangle him. That man is utterly oblivious to social cues.” 

“Dare I ask?” Steve put in. 

Tony gave him a crooked smile. “Dr. Reed Richards. One of the other geniuses in the world who can keep up with me, and on a good day outpace me. I have no idea how he managed to get as far as he did in the scientific community. He talks almost exclusively in jargon, can’t seem to grasp the concept that not everyone around him knows what he’s talking about, and doesn’t like to take no for an answer.” 

“And you don’t like him.” Steve concluded. 

“I like him fine, but damn can he get annoying at times. I’ve had ‘discussions’ with the man that have lasted years, simply because he was convinced he was right and wouldn’t accept that what he wanted wasn’t possible with the tech we had at the time. He’s obsessive about precision in scientific analyses, and anyone a bit more practical about doing them is committing a mortal sin in his eyes.” Steve nodded slowly, and Tony knew his explanation had gone a little wide of the mark. “But in any case. One of his hobbies is researching portals and alternate universes. If he’s found something worth discussing, I’ll hear him out. If he just wants to whine at me some more about detection limits and instrument error, he can find someone else to talk to.” 

Pepper put in her two cents as well. “Don’t worry about it, Steve. I’m sure Tony will let you know if there’s a large-scale problem that he needs your help solving.” 

Tony made a face at her. “With some luck, that won’t happen.” 

“I’ve learned never to count on luck,” Steve retorted. “You mentioned this Richards had a team?” 

Carol snorted. “The three of them are a strange mix of personalities. His wife is nice, you’ll like her. Very practical and conscientious. I still don’t know what she sees in him, really, but they seem to do alright. His brother in law is... well, a ladies man. Or, thinks he is, anyway. Most of us try to limit our exposure to him. Tony seems to like the guy for some reason.” She paused and Tony considered objecting, but it was true. Johnny Storm was amusing, more often than not. Carol continued after a beat. “Ben... is hard to describe. Kind of epitomizes the saying ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’.” 

Steve considered the information for a moment, then shrugged. “Good to know. Thanks.” 

\------ 

Two days later, JARVIS broke into Tony's thoughts as he redesigned the armour to have a higher level of protection against infrared and microwave transmissions. "Sir," the AI said, opening up a video feed for his perusal, "per standard protocol Ms. Potts and Ms. Danvers have been notified. There is an unauthorised person attempting to gain access to the floor of Stark Tower on which the vaults are located." 

Tony looked up and watched as a figure passed the camera currently transmitting. This looked like it might be the same person he and Steve had tried to capture in Los Angeles. "Think we should let them in and then lock down the floor?" 

"Ms. Danvers would likely appreciate that, and I suspect it would lead to less property damage," JARVIS answered. 

"Does this person match the profile of our suspect from the California raid?" 

"I cannot tell, sir. The security systems were disabled prior to the break in in Los Angeles, and the images captured during the fight are not very high quality. As such, I have no reliable footage to compare to. The intruder has attempted to disable the systems here, too." 

Tony made a note to upgrade the cameras in the armour. "Attempted?" 

"Well, sir," Tony would swear he heard a smirk in the AI's voice, "they believe they succeeded in shutting down the cameras and substituting a looped recording. I was able to reverse the hack after they left the main security room." 

"Well done, JARVIS," Tony smirked. "Now, it might be prudent for Iron Man to make an appearance to assist Ms. Danvers in bringing this person in. Armour me up, J." 

"Sir, we have not had enough time to implement your protections against the technology that deactivated the armour during your previous encounter," JARVIS shot back. "Perhaps it would be wiser to let the Captain and Ms. Danvers handle this?" 

"Nice try, buddy, but no. We've got the infrared components blocked, and those are the most likely avenue of compromise anyway. Armour." 

\------ 

At least this time he hadn't been in the air when the asshole had hit him with the deactivator ray. Tony scowled, thankful the faceplate hid his expression, and resisted the growing impulse to try to use his new mage powers to reboot the armour's actuator circuits. He _hated_ being stuck in his armour while it was powered down. The design of the joints, necessary to keep the armour modular and strong, made it nearly impossible to move without power. 

"You alright there, Shellhead," Cap asked, hauling him up off the floor by his shoulder. Carol was standing off to one side and snickering at him. Granted, she didn’t know it was him in the armour, but still. 

"I’m just fine, Winghead," Tony groaned, letting the voice modulator pick it up. "Wondering just what that deactivator of his does, though. Mr. Stark said he'd more or less managed to make the armour resistant to it." 

"Well," Cap smirked at him and held up the device, which looked like a fanciful recreation of a 1940s toy ray gun, offering it to Iron Man, "you can let him pull it apart and work that out, if he wants." 

"Pretty sure he will,” Tony replied, taking the thing gingerly. “Looks like something out of a radio drama." He turned the device over in his hands a couple of times. 

Now that he'd gathered his wits, he spotted their burglar, out cold on the floor and hogtied with what looked like Cap's belt. Carol had one heeled boot planted squarely in the middle of the man’s back, pinning him to the floor. "I assume you've called the police to come and get him?" 

"I did. I tried to call Mr. Stark, as well, but JARVIS says he's unavailable as long as he's in that safe room of his." 

"That's true enough." Tony eyed the hogtied man. "Get anything out of him while I was down?" 

"No. He just danced around trying to evade us until I got the drop on him. Figured it was better to have him in custody than to have him get loose because we wanted answers." 

Tony nodded. "Good thinking. Mr. Stark will want to talk to him, I'd bet." Slowly, he shuffled a few feet away from his landing spot and winced. Getting back down to the workshop like this was going to be annoying, but he couldn't ask Cap for help without revealing his identity. Cap watched him for a long moment, clearly torn between helping him to the elevator and keeping an eye on their captive. Tony lifted a hand to wave over his shoulder. "I'll be fine, Cap. Gotta go find Mr. Stark, and see if he can get the suit back online. You want to hand deliver this guy to the police?" 

"Alright," Cap nodded, uncertainty in the set of his shoulders and jaw. "Tell Mr. Stark I'd like a word with him, too, would you Shellhead?" 

"Sure thing. Nice working with you, Ms. Marvel." 

Carol gave him a long measuring look, but nodded politely. “Likewise. Come on, Steve. Let’s see if we can find out who’s in charge of taking this guy off our hands.” 

Deciding that they had the situation handled, Tony continued shuffling down the hallway. Thankfully, it wasn't far to the elevator JARVIS had waiting for him, and the armour wasn't damaged enough to be difficult to remove once he'd made it to his workshop. He made it out of the elevator without any mishaps, and set the ray gun on one of his worktables before he set to removing his armour. To his vast relief, none of the mechanical releases jammed, and it was less than ten minutes later that he was on his way back up to find Cap and Carol. 

He arrived in the atrium of the building to see Cap talking to a nondescript man in a very bland but clearly designer suit. Carol stood behind Cap and to his right, her arms crossed over her chest and hip cocked, nonverbally backing him up. 

Turning his attention to the stranger, Tony paused for a moment. It was almost unnerving how deadpan this guy was. Even his manner was very calm and even. A pair of expensive but unremarkable sunglasses peeked out of his right breast pocket. This man, whoever he was, reeked of government, and was also pinging against Tony's mage senses, to boot. Interesting. Tony stepped out into the light and walked towards the trio. 

"-- not sure what he was after, sir," Cap was saying as Tony approached. "Ah! Mr. Stark," Tony could see that Cap was relieved, "this is Agent Coulson." 

The agent looked him over from head to toe, expression neutral, and Tony raised an eyebrow at him. "Which agency are you with, Agent?" 

The question got him a very practiced slightly-rueful-looking smile and a flash of a badge that was only just long enough to show an insignia and an ID card, but not long enough to read the card itself. Tony wasn't sure he trusted this man, no matter that Cap seemed to have warmed up to him. "That would be the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division." 

"One hell of a name," Tony snorted, a subtle hand gesture requesting that JARVIS look up the agency and this guy in particular. "Why are you here?" 

"We've been tracking your captive for the better part of six months, in the hopes that he'd slip up." 

Well. That was succinct and straight to the point. And also had a lot of implications hidden in the subtext. If this guy’s agency had been tracking this guy, why hadn’t they warned him? Why wait until Tony and his company had been attacked multiple times? There was little doubt in Tony’s mind that this break in and the two in LA were connected somehow. 

Tony snorted, letting his incredulity show a little. "So, tell me, Agent, why is it that your agency decided to sit back, without bothering to inform me that I might be robbed, and see whether my security was good enough? You thought you could just waltz in here now, after today’s events, and just take control of the situation now that my employees Ms. Marvel, and Iron Man and my good personal friend Captain America captured your errant thief for you? And I'm supposed to be so grateful that I let you do so in spite of the knowledge that if he got past my security that the leaked information would compromise a large portion of my company's revenue stream as well as a minimum of four top secret military contracts? I can't say that I'm too inclined to take any of that kindly, Agent." 

Cap’s back straightened as he rapidly re-evaluated the situation and came up with the many of the same conclusions Tony had, shoulders squaring as though he was about to march into another fight. On Tony's behalf, no less. Tony had to fight a surge of affection as he held up a hand, keeping Cap where he was. He wanted to know what this Agent Coulson had to say for himself. 

"It was never supposed to go that far, Mr. Stark," the suit disagreed mildly, annoyingly composed in the face of Tony's verbal attack. "This man, known as the Spymaster, is the best at what he does. He is rumoured to be working in tandem with the Living Laser, with whom I believe you are well acquainted. The two of them are implicated in a string of recent thefts and a list of counts of industrial espionage as long as my arm, but there is literally no sign of the Spymaster showing up at any of the locations that were burglarised. Except Stark Industries." The Agent paused, then added in a pointed counterattack, "perhaps you could shed some light on why that is?" 

Cap bristled immediately at the insinuations, this time, his fists clenching tightly enough that the leather gloves he wore creaked loudly. Carol’s hand went to his elbow, steadying him, and Cap stilled. The Agent's expression never changed, but his eyes did dart over to Cap for the barest instant. Oh, this Agent knew a threat when he saw one. Tony laughed, and saw Cap relax just slightly at the sound. Tony knew that if he let his anger have full rein, Cap would back him up. "Oh, that's rich," he managed. "You're accusing me of hiring this guy to steal from myself to hide my own tracks? I'll own, that's a pretty ingenious plan, but it's entirely false. Now, Agent, I suggest you either tell me what is actually going on, or get out of here and take your unfounded accusations with you." 

That, naturally, gained Tony no new information whatsoever. The Agent gave no ground. "I've been given orders to debrief you on the matter, Mr. Stark. If you would allow me--" 

"No," Tony interrupted. 

"Mr. Stark, I'm afraid I must insist," he tried again. 

"Agent... Calsone, was it? I can see that you will only keep coming back like a bad cold. If you absolutely insist, here is how this is going to work. You are going to contact Ms. Virginia Potts, and make an appointment with her," Tony gave him an arch look, "and allow her the time to coordinate with my lawyers. I am not going to say a word on the subject without at least one legal counsel present, after the accusations you have just leveled at me. Take it or leave it." 

"Very well." The agent nodded slowly, his eyes going to Cap once more as Cap stepped up to stand at Tony's left shoulder, a very stern look on his face that his cowl did nothing to hide. 

"And make sure that your Spymaster is locked up tight in the interim, would you," Tony tossed over his shoulder as he turned to Cap and dismissed the agent from his attention. Whether this agent was legitimate or not, Tony was going to let this line play out. If the suit was on the up-and-up, their captive would probably stay captive. If not, they would have a lead on who had ordered the break-in. "You in once piece, Captain?" 

"I'm fine, Mr. Stark. Would you make sure Iron Man is alright while I supervise the departure of our captive from the campus?" 

"Of course. He's already been given a quick once over by JARVIS, but I'll check on him." 

With a nod, Tony turned and strode purposefully back out the door. He'd need to let Pepper know to put this asshole off as long as possible and alert the law team. 

\------ 

When Steve made his way to Tony's workshop later that evening after they'd both returned to the mansion, he did so in civvies. The uniform had been traded for a pair of very old-fashioned pleated slacks and a white button down shirt. The shirt didn’t do much to hide the livid bruises that ran down Steve's right side from his shoulder to his belt, even with an undershirt beneath it. And Tony knew that they probably extended farther down to his knee, judging by the slightly stiff posture he used as he favoured his injured side. 

Tony frowned. "I thought you said you weren't hurt." 

"I'm fine. Just sore." 

"Damn it, Steve," Tony set down his tools and took the three steps over to Steve, his hands coming up to gently shake the moron by his shoulders. "You got hurt. It matters." 

"Don't you worry about me," Steve tried, "they'll be gone by morning." 

"Not buying it." Tony glared at him, now. "Those are serious. I can tell just by looking at you. Come on. You're coming up to the kitchen and icing those, by the Seven Mages, or I'm going to tell Iron Man not to let you help anymore." 

"Tony," Steve tried to dig his heels in, "you're overreacting." 

Idiot. Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Yeah? And what was that you did when I came home from Malibu with a few minor scrapes? Mother hen me half to death?" 

"That's different, and you know it," Steve tried once more to brush it off. 

"Hardly." 

"I have a healing factor, you know." 

"Doesn't mean you should be walking around despite your injuries and aggravating them." 

"You're a fine one to talk," Steve grumbled, but he gave in. "Fine. But if you keep pushing like this we _will_ have words, Tony. I know how to take care of myself." 

That was obviously a lie, but for the sake of not getting into _that_ argument, Tony let it go. He'd won one victory. Pushing for a second immediately would be a bit much. 

\------ 

Three days later, Tony looked up from some minor repairs he was making to Steve's shield and harness in the wake of the attack the Spymaster had made on the vault, to see Pepper standing at the workshop door, accompanying an unfortunately familiar man with a bland expression. He frowned, but hit the switch to allow them entry. What the hell was Agent Agent doing here? There had been no notice that the man had actually managed to force Pepper to schedule an appointment. JARVIS would have mentioned that. 

His research after the man had left with the burglar, supposedly the Spymaster, now in real cuffs in one of his black SUVs, had revealed very little. He'd learned nothing about the man himself, but he had found out that the agency usually called itself SHIELD, rather than using the long version of their handle. In retrospect, he probably ought to have recognised the attempt at obfuscation for what it was. And SHIELD was a name that had reminded him of a number of unpleasant incidents in the past. Agent Agent had doubtless been briefed on them, and warned not to mention SHIELD to Tony Stark. 

SHIELD was, after all, the organisation that had all but stolen Stark Industries from him, as a direct result of their Director’s actions in buying up all of the shares that he could that didn't belong to Tony himself or the Board. Tony had managed to keep control, confronting Director Nick Fury in a very satisfying showdown that he still liked remembering on rainy days, but only barely. He’d gotten no help whatsoever from the Board in that battle; they’d all been mad at him over something unimportant, at the time. Obie had tried -- or at least _claimed_ he’d tried -- to talk them around and failed. Tony still wasn’t sure what to think of that tall tale. Regardless of which was true, though, Tony didn’t feel very kindly disposed toward the agency. Since then, he had made sure not to have any dealings with SHIELD that he didn't have to, against the Board’s very insistent suggestions in some cases. 

Pushing away the memories, Tony watched as Pepper led Agent Agent to the workshop door and waited. Pepper had her own access code, but rarely used it if she brought someone outside their inner circle to the workshop. Tony caught her eyes as she stepped through the door. "Ms. Potts?" 

Pepper gestured just enough to indicate the man at her side. "This is Agent Coulson of SHIELD." 

Tony turned to the man, raising an eyebrow. If he'd gotten this far, he was either legit, or an amazingly good con artist. Maybe both. "Thanks, Ms. Potts, we’ve met.” Tony turned to the suit. “What do you want? I told you already, I'm not doing your debrief without my lawyer." 

The blunt question got a hint of a smile out of the agent, though his expression didn't change enough to actually accommodate the movement. "There's a situation, Mr. Stark, and Director Fury would like to request that your bodyguard and the Captain join him on the Helicarrier at their earliest convenience. He is willing to pay your standard consulting fee." 

Tony blinked, surprised. That was _not_ what he'd been expecting to hear. "Before I agree, I'll want to know more about just what I -- and they -- would be agreeing to do." 

"At this time, nothing." 

That sounded suspicious. "Nothing." 

It wasn't a question, but the agent replied anyway. "We don't currently have enough information to plan or execute an op." 

Huh. More blunt honesty than expected in the man's tone. And if the body language was to be trusted, he also meant what he said. 

The lack of information was unsettling, though. This sounded like a setup or an attempt to con him into working with SHIELD again. It was one hell of a reversal after the accusations SHIELD had leveled at him through this same agent over the Laser and the subsequent break ins at SI, and that was more than enough to make Tony very suspicious about Fury’s motive. 

It was possible that they would try using Iron Man or Captain America as leverage against him. The thought almost made him snort. They’d have no luck whatsoever trying to coerce Steve, and he himself knew all the ins and outs of the systems he’d designed for Fury prior to their falling out. 

If Fury decided to try to pull something over on them, he’d get all the trouble he could handle, and probably then some. 

Tony considered for a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "I'll get back to you. They both get a say in my decision." 

A surprising amount of relief was visible in the set of Agent's shoulders. "Here," he set an electronic file (Stark designed. Tony suppressed an amused huff) on the worktable standing between them, apparently having anticipated Tony’s reponse. "This should help with your decision." 

Having said his piece, the Agent turned and preceded Pepper to the workshop door. "The briefing on the Helicarrier is set for tonight at 1800 hours," he tossed over his shoulder. Pepper followed the agent out, escorting him to the mansion's front door. 

What the hell had just happened? The whole thing left Tony at a loss, and he stared after them until JARVIS recalled him to what he’d been working on with a prompt regarding materials acquisition. 

With a glance at the digital clock JARVIS was displaying for him, Tony ran his hand through his hair. He had four hours to figure out what to do, and find Steve. At least the trip up to the Helicarrier was a short one. 

Opening the file was like jumping into a nightmare. Fucking Nick Fury and his stupid half-assed planning. The man absolutely loved manipulating the world into what he wanted, and he was good at it, but the consequences sometimes were farther reaching than he predicted. And often when that happened, shit went south. Fast. And good old Nick had clearly over-reached again. 

SHIELD had taken the Tesseract -- which dear old dad had found in the Atlantic decades ago, apparently -- and tried to use it to make weapons. Now that plan was backfiring spectacularly. Objectively, this _did_ take precedence over the Spymaster and his attempted burglaries, but that didn’t mean Tony was going to just graciously submit to Fury’s request to borrow some muscle. Settling in to read through the file in detail, Tony set an alarm on JARVIS’ holographic interface. He might need a reminder to track down Steve, if this was as serious a problem as it sounded. 

Instead, Steve found him in the workshop, still studying the file, an hour later. 

Tony looked up when Steve came in, and couldn't stop himself from staring. Steve had pretty obviously just finished a workout, dressed in sweats and a sweat soaked t-shirt that clung to his torso in ways that should have been declared illegal by the Geneva Convention. _Not to be allowed to act on something like that is just cruel and unusual torture, I mean, come on. Fuck._

The bruises were indeed gone without a trace. 

"... reading?" 

Realising he'd tuned out of the conversation, Tony shook himself out of the half-trance. "Sorry, what?" 

"You must be very focused. I asked what you were reading." 

Tony let his head fall forward and rubbed at his face with both hands, muffling his voice slightly as he replied. "You remember the agent from a few days ago? The one that took the Spymaster off our hands? Well his boss, one Director Fury of SHIELD, wants you and Iron Man to take part in some op, and there's little to no information that he's willing -- or able, I'm not sure which at this point -- to give me." 

“SHIELD? What do they want?” Steve frowned. "What _did_ he give you?" 

"All I’ve got is a file containing the bare bones of what's happened, and a 'suggested' course of action that involves you and Iron Man somehow getting back one of his agents that's been captured and forced to help the enemy... Who the captured agent is, I have no idea. Neither he nor the enemy is named. That suggested course of action is also very sketchy. Nothing in the way of details there, either." 

"You weren't kidding. That really isn't much to go on." 

"You and Iron Man are 'invited' to a meeting on the Helicarrier at 1800 hours, if you both decide in favour of taking part. I’m going to tag along, whether Fury wants me there or not. JARVIS?" 

"Sir?" the AI's tone seemed softer than usual. 

"Ping Iron Man and let him know he should join us?" It was the basest of ruses; JARVIS would be piloting an empty suit and replying to queries based on what he thought Tony wanted. But there was no way Tony was revealing his dual identity to Steve yet. Or to SHIELD, for that matter. Dear Old Nick would only use the knowledge to manipulate Tony into doing things for SHIELD, an organisation that he had very carefully kept out of his life. He'd seen at the time that it had all but consumed Aunt Peggy and the Commandoes, and decided running SI was enough. That had clearly been the correct decision, given the way that he was struggling to balance his efforts in spearheading SI's new direction in the field of clean energy with his activities as Iron Man. 

He settled back in his chair at the worktable as he and Steve waited those five minutes in silence, both contemplative, until Iron Man entered the workshop. The metal-on-concrete-floor footfalls were audible long before he entered, each seeming to ratchet the tension in Tony's shoulders that much higher until finally, right before Tony thought he would break and spill everything to Steve, the workshop door opened. 

"You requested my presence, Mr. Stark?" 

Tony nodded. "I did. SHIELD Director Nick Fury has asked you and Steve to take part in a field operation to retrieve a captured SHIELD operative, pending my approval. Which, as you've probably already surmised, is based on _your_ accepting the mission." 

"What are the mission parameters," was Iron Man's query. 

Steve snorted. "Currently none, Shellhead." 

"What?" 

Tony laughed once, the sound harsher than was his usual wont. "Fury claims he hasn't got enough intel to put together a mission briefing. If he's given us everything, I'm inclined to believe that." 

Steve turned to him. "You think Director Fury is holding something back?" 

"Don't you?" The question got him a shrug from Steve, and a curious gesture from Iron Man. With a snort he continued, "when have you ever known him to give away all the information he has on anything?" 

Iron Man replied first. "I have not known him long enough to make such a conclusion." 

Steve nodded. "I haven't either." 

"So your votes then, gentlemen? Are you in or out?" 

Cautiously, almost reluctantly, Iron Man nodded. "In. Anything that makes someone like Director Fury nervous enough to risk attempting to call in a favour from Tony Stark has to be big." 

"Agreed." Steve ran his hands through his hair. "How are we getting to this meeting?" 

"Well," Tony smirked, "you could always hitch a ride with Iron Man." 

"Yeah, very funny, wise guy." He turned to Iron Man. "No offence, Shellhead, but you're not the most comfortable way to travel." 

"None taken. I'd assumed we were taking your private jet?" Iron Man addressed the question to Tony. 

“I had assumed so too.” Casually, Tony picked up the suitcase containing his spare armour. It was a precautionary measure, and he’d started keeping it in the workshop for such occasions after he’d had to hide his first call-out from Steve. "I need to talk to Pepper and Carol before we head out, but that won’t take long. Shall we?" 

\------ 

They were met on their arrival by Agent Coulson and two female agents, introduced as Agents Hill and Romanov. Tony got the impression either of them could -- and would -- willingly break him over one knee if they chose. Hill, clearly used to commanding troops, held herself with the poise and authority of an officer. Romanov almost seemed to fade into the shadows beside Hill, despite her bright red curls and traffic-stopping curves. Probably a spy, Tony decided. Possibly sent to spy on _them_. 

Steve, being who he was, simply nodded acknowledgment of both ladies then refocused on Coulson. Tony eyed the trio warily until Coulson spoke, and the man's words only made his misgivings deepen. "We're expected on the bridge. If you'll follow us?" 

"What's the situation," Steve wanted to know. 

"We'll address that once everyone is assembled," was the short non-answer, this time from Hill. “After the briefing, I’m afraid your bodyguard will need to wait for you on the helipad. Director’s orders.” 

Thankfully, the walk wasn't a long one. Tony would bite through his tongue, at this rate, trying to keep quiet, but he needed to know what was going on to act effectively as Iron Man. Steve was giving him a concerned look that made him wonder whether he was showing some telltale sign of his tension. 

The access to the bridge opened before the agents' combined authority, and Tony glanced around the room. As he remembered, it was a large open space, the walls on three sides made entirely of glass. Fury hadn’t changed much here in the intervening years. The biggest difference he could see was that now the room contained rows of analysts and navigators at workstations. It gave the room an undertone of tapping fingers and muttered reports. Off to one side was a conference table containing one of his patented holographic interfaces, normally meant for the ship's officers to give their briefings at, but currently partially occupied by several people Tony recognised as scientists at the tops of their respective fields though he'd never formally met most of them in person. He had seen almost all of them at least once at conferences he’d attended just because he felt like it and scientific panels he’d listened to on a whim. 

There were a couple of people he did know, as well. Richards was here, too. Tony could hear the man’s voice as he expounded on something to do with portal theory in a tone that carried far more than necessary. 

A second glance around the room confirmed what he’d suspected: the rest of the Fantastic Four were nowhere to be seen. He stepped over to greet Dr. Banner. That would give him some protection from the more socially aware of the scientists, but Tony just knew with a kind of bone deep certainty that Richards was bound to zero in on him whether or not he was through talking to Banner. He never had ended up talking to Richards about whatever pseudo-rigorous statistical proof he’d been working on. After the first 36 hours with no word from Richards, Tony had shrugged and assumed whatever Richards wanted to talk about wasn’t as urgent as had been implied. 

Banner held out his hand. “Mr. Stark. It’s good to see you again. Who’re your friends?” 

“Dr. Banner,” Tony smiled, taking the offered hand and shaking it. “I’m going to assume you’re asking to know their callsigns, and that that isn’t an attempt to learn their civilian identities. In which case I have to counter with the question: have you watched the news at all lately?” He paused a beat to let Banner’s amusement roll over him, then continued, “The man in armour is Iron Man, my part time body guard and full-time company emergency response officer. The red white and blue wonder, here, is Captain America.” Turning to Cap and JARVIS, he added, "Dr. Banner is one of the foremost experts in radiation physics and biochemistry. He also happens to occasionally turn big and green if you make him angry, so, don't." 

“Pleasure to meet you both.” Dr. Banner offered his hand to both of them in turn. He got a solemn handshake from JARVIS, and a pleasant smile from Cap. 

“I’d really prefer it were under better circumstances,” Cap replied. “What brings you into town?” 

“Well,” Banner prevaricated, looking a little uncomfortable, “I’m here because the Director requested I put my scientific expertise at his disposal for a few days. That’s true for just about all of us.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow at his colleague. “Tell me he’s at least offered to pay you.” 

“Oh, he did. I’m just not sure about-- oh, hello Reed.” 

Tony wanted to sigh; without even truly acknowledging Banner’s greeting or the presence of two costumed superheroes, Richards simply started in on him. “There you are, Stark,” he said, “I tried to give you a call to discuss this, but your secretary fed me a line about some emergency in LA. I’ve come across some compelling new evidence that the different facets of the multiverse resonate on specific frequencies. I’m talking about a four-sigma level of significance, and --” 

He was interrupted by a loud call for their attention from Fury, who was standing on the other side of the room, but just kept talking. “-- I’m pretty sure that if I can match the frequencies --” 

"Alright, shut up for a few minutes, now, will ya?" Fury called the meeting to order a second time, only waiting until about half of them were seated before he continued. Tony was glad he didn’t have to try to extricate himself politely. "We've got business to address. You can pick Stark’s brain later, Richards. Hill?" 

Steve settled in the chair to Tony's right as Iron Man took up a position standing behind and between the two of them. Agent Hill stood from her position near the head of the table and paced, her hands clasped in the small of her back as she talked. "Two days ago, following an incident at a SHIELD facility, one of our best, Agent Barton," a gesture brought an image of the man up on the holoprojector in the center of the table, "was captured, and we believe he is being coerced into helping our enemy." 

She paused, gestured again, and the image changed, now displaying a large glowing blue cube, about ten centimeters on a side. Steve stared, stunned, though Tony doubted anyone but him would have known the reaction for what it was; it had taken him several months of learning Steve's tells to be able to read him accurately. "This is the object that was stolen from us in the process. It's known as the Tesseract, and eyewitness reports claim it was used to enslave Barton before our enemy escaped." 

This time the pause was longer. "Does this enemy have a name," Tony drawled, lingering over the question mock thoughtfully. 

"He calls himself Loki." Hill answered, as she glared at Richards, keeping him quiet somehow. Tony suspected it was through sheer force of will. 

Banner huffed, bemused. "Really. He wants to invoke the Norse god of mischief." 

Fury shook his head, splaying his fingers and leaning on the table, slightly proprietary. "No. He claims to _be_ the Norse god of mischief." 

"What?" Tony laughed. "Are you serious?" 

"Unfortunately. And he seems to have the power to back it up. You yahoos aren't my first choice for this, but you're probably the best." Fury looked like he'd bitten into something unpleasant. Tony smirked, which made the expression deepen. "However, until we have an idea of where this Loki character took Agent Barton, our hands are tied." 

The whole thing stank of deception to Tony, but he decided he'd play along for the time being. "And how exactly do you intend to find that out?" 

Fury didn't bother trying to pretend. "While you were waffling about whether to join us, Stark, Drs. Richards and Banner led the team that put together an algorithm to scan the images passing through the telecom satellites and any other camera we have access to.” 

One of the scientists Tony didn’t know personally nodded. “When he shows his face, we'll know within minutes." 

This time there was no keeping Richards silent. “Our algorithm should pinpoint his location to within meters, based on the characteristics of the GPS satellites we’re borrowing from you, Stark, and the facial recognition function of our program has a level of precision on the order of 0.001 percent.” 

Well. At least for once Reed hadn’t rambled for hours. But that crack about borrowed satellites wasn’t one he was overly pleased about. He’d had that conversation with Richards before, but couldn’t seem to convince him that one really ought to ask first before hijacking dedicated equipment or resources. 

Tony sighed, channeling his irritation into it and letting the sound echo in the large room a little melodramatically. "It's not like you to use the reactive play, Nick. Just think back to the time you tried to steal my company in an attempt to try to force me to design for you." 

Steve looked sharply at him, then at Fury. "Is that true?" 

Fury scowled. "There were extenuating circumstances. Can we focus on the problem in front of us rather than past disagreements?" 

Tony laughed, the expression devoid of any real mirth. "Why should I help you, Nick? Even now it's obvious we're not getting the whole story. Why call us in rather than let your own people handle this? Why call us now, rather than after you had some more information, if this is really all you have on the guy?" 

Fury's scowl deepened, looking like he'd have preferred to incinerate Tony where he sat with his eye alone, if he could. "Because if I'd waited, it would have been too late. Barton is one of our best, and specializes in black ops, infiltration, and sniping. Unless I'd preemptively called you yahoos here now, I wouldn't have had a chance to call you here at all. I can't say for sure whether there would have been a Helicarrier to call you to." 

Tony saw Steve nod slowly. He himself was forced to reluctantly agree with the logic, though he highly doubted the missing agent could take out the Helicarrier on his own. Tony had designed it himself, and knew all the ins, outs, and redundancies. There was no way a single agent could take out all of the redundant systems. It was deliberately set up to resist an attack by an elite team. A single agent would never manage to get to everything that needed to be done simultaneously. To shut down the navigation systems alone, there were two switches at opposite ends of the Helicarrier that both needed to be flipped within five minutes of one another. 

"Fine," Tony quipped as he stood, letting the feet of the chair scrape loudly on the floor. Steve winced at the sound. "I guess we'll see what results your theory yields." 

Turning on his heel, Tony left the room, not bothering to see whether the others followed. He wasn't about to give Fury an inch more than necessary. 

\------ 

It took four hours for Loki to make his move, and when he did, it was halfway across the world. In Germany, of all places. Tony grumbled wordlessly to himself, pacing the SHIELD jet in his armour. He'd left the Helicarrier about six hours ago with Iron Man in tow, informing Fury that his bodyguard would escort him home then return. Surprisingly, or perhaps not in retrospect, Fury had simply accepted that, and Tony had gone just far enough to see the ruse through, entering his mansion and waiting just long enough to ostensibly get settled in his workshop before putting on the armour and informing Pepper that he would be out of contact for the foreseeable future. 

And then Iron Man had cooled his heels with Captain America on the Helicarrier for the remaining two hours. Cap had pulled out a copy of the briefing notes to study all over again, leaving Tony the options of joining him, which he didn't feel like doing, or finding something else to do. 

It was tempting to try to hack Fury’s security and see if there was any additional information on the SHIELD mainframe that they hadn’t been given. But, Tony acknowledged, that was liable to give away his identity. Iron Man wasn’t known to be a technomage, or even a computer engineer, whereas Tony Stark was both of those things. 

It had taken less than half an hour for the situation to transition from a little bit boring to incredibly boring, and Tony had given in to the need to do something. That wound up being drawing several sets of new blueprints in his head. He dictated the basics to JARVIS using the interface in his armour to transmit the information and the soundproofing circuits to obscure it from prying SHIELD ears. 

That could only keep him occupied for so long, though. Without free access to JARVIS’ simulations he could only do rough ideation drafts and no refinements thereof, reducing his ability to work to what was effectively a brainstorming session with his AI. 

He'd installed a voice synthesiser in the armour what felt like aeons ago, once it had become clear that Steve would be sticking around. It had seemed like a good idea to pre-emptively remove one of the most obvious tells where it came to his secret identity, so he'd installed the synthesiser between himself and all outgoing communications. JARVIS would know who he was despite his altered voice, and any others who heard him wouldn't immediately recognise Tony Stark. On the other hand, there wasn't much he could do to hide the mage powers other than not use them, and even then a good enough mage might still be able to sense him. He'd have to come into contact with the same person in both identities, though, in fairly close succession. 

They'd been abruptly called to action as Tony was halfway through a rambling monologue on how tedious the waiting was and why couldn't they either _do something_ or go home that Cap was ignoring as he continued to reread the briefing documents. 

He couldn't decide whether to be more relieved or irritated by the interruption, really. 

Refocusing on the present, Tony made a face; they had another four hours of flight time ahead of them, with no way to discuss strategy, since they knew nothing about the situation. He'd refused to let anyone affiliated with SHIELD come anywhere near the armour to install a radio uplink. The SHIELD techs had been quite insistent, but interfacing with foreign tech would only give them a potential line on JARVIS, the armour itself, and Iron Man's identity. They'd refused to give him the frequency for the gear they were outfitting Cap with, either. 

Cap did still have the comm link Tony had given him before their first mission together in LA against the Spymaster, but only one slot in his costume for a radio link, and SHIELD had insisted that theirs be there. Had Tony still been aboard the Helicarrier in his civilian identity, he would have put up a fight against that. As Iron Man, he could object a little and ‘report back’ to Tony, but he had no authority over the situation. Cap had eventually shrugged and given in, handing Iron Man the comm link Tony had given him, accompanying it with a request to keep it safe for him. 

In his technomage's senses, he could feel the little earpiece as a vaguely off-center buzz, the tech containing some inefficient components, and the frequency it operated on also oddly obscured. It was probably encrypted, Tony decided, and SHIELD pretty obviously didn't want him having the key. The potential 'why' behind that reluctance was interesting, but there wasn't time to properly unravel that mystery right now. 

He'd considered trying to hack into Cap's SHIELD earpiece, but doing something like that around a bunch of SHIELD agents would give him away pretty much immediately. Tony wouldn't know about the earpiece unless he was literally following every second of the feed from Iron Man's armour, being back at the mansion, and Iron Man was not known to be anything other than a good fighter. Hacking his way in had consequences that wouldn’t do anything to endear him to SHIELD. They would either be unhappy that he was spying on them through Iron Man's feeds, or make the connection between Tony Stark and Iron Man's identities. 

So, for the time being, it was better to just talk normally, where they could. The situation wasn't nearly dire enough to justify the risk of giving himself away, at this point. 

The time passed slowly. On his own, Tony could cross the Atlantic in under an hour and a half. The SHIELD jet took five and each one felt like a year. This was unacceptable. If he was going to be working with them more in future, he might have to design an upgrade for their stupid jets, just so traveling with them wouldn't drive him insane. The armour could travel at speeds exceeding Mach 3, but the quinjets were only rugged enough to flirt with the sound barrier rather than break it. It was almost 1.4 times faster than commercial aircraft could manage, but still not quite good enough[12]. 

Thankfully, they were nearly at their destination. 

Readying his arsenal with a quick gesture, Tony pulled up into a hover and then cut his boot jets. He plummeted toward the ground. In the square below, he could see a crowd of people on their knees and a guy in a long black trench coat with a scepter in his right hand. What was weird about the scepter, well, besides the brightly glowing gem at the top of it, was the feeling of tech that hung around it like blue smoke. 

Caught up in trying to analyse the scepter, Tony almost forgot to catch himself before he hit the ground. JARVIS fired the boot jets when he was about ten meters off the ground, and that jolted Tony out of his reverie enough to make his usual three-point landing. 

“Ah,” the guy purred, a smug smirk on his face, “the metal man. You’ve built a lovely shell to protect you, but you are damaged. Crumbling. Your mistakes _eat_ at you and do their best to burn you up from the inside.” 

Tony raised an eyebrow at the asshole. He was fine with the idea of talking until Cap arrived in the jet. The less destruction happened here, the better, given the sheer number of civilians present. “Who died and made you my therapist?” 

“You think to atone for your sins by fighting to protect the people of your world,” the man with the scepter continued. “But not even in your own mind can you wash off the blood on your hands.” 

“Whatever,” Tony replied, “I’m done with this discussion.” Raising his hands and powering up his repulsors, he added, “I’ll give you a chance: put down the scepter and come quietly.” 

“You think to intimidate an Asgardian with such tactics? I am Loki Liesmith, and a god. I am powerful beyond your imagination.” He sneered, and the scepter began to glow more brightly. “Your mage powers are no match for mine.” 

Before Tony could react, the feeling of alien tech spiked and the glow from the gem somehow became a beam of light that hit him in the chest. The world turned blue and he felt like he was trying to swim through a non-Newtonian fluid. Every movement was somehow slowed by a factor of about five as though the air had developed both a high density and resistance, and the sensation of the armour around him was magnified. It was like he could feel every transistor and actuator as though they were extensions of his body, could almost see them as extra limbs in his subconscious. And the strong urge to turn around and repulsor the quinjet burned through him. He was so angry at Fury, for manipulating him into this fight. For daring to ask him for help after all the bad blood between them. The loss of one of his precious quinjets would be just the beginning-- 

But Cap was on board. He didn’t want to repulsor Cap. No, he lo-- 

Tony shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to clear it of the conflicting wants. The urge to repulsor the jet persisted as he watched the craft approach, and he put up his hand to satisfy it. He couldn’t make himself pull the metaphorical trigger, though. 

The quinjet had descended rapidly once they'd reached their destination, and pulled up into a stationary hover about five meters off the ground. A moment later, Cap jumped out of the jet to land in a crouch, balanced on the balls of his feet and the fingers of his free hand, then immediately launched himself bodily Loki, shield first. “Let him go!” 

Somehow, time sped back up, then, and the blue faded out of his vision. It left everything looking oddly yellow. It took him a moment to gather his wits, and by then Cap was locked in battle with Loki, his expression hard and determined. 

Tony felt totally off balance, but rejoined the fight anyway, doing his best to work out how Loki was controlling that scepter and what the hell it did. He could feel that weird blue fugue state still hovering at the edges of his awareness, and it made him very uneasy. 

In that moment, Cap and Loki broke apart, and then with another feeling of alien tech there were about six Lokis in the square. 

Staving off the sensation of the blue fog as best he could, Tony took pot shots at Loki whenever he found an opening to do so. The square had mostly emptied of civilians the moment the fight had truly been joined, so they had a lot more room to work. It took them several minutes, but eventually, they had reduced the number of Lokis to two. 

Seeing the shield fly through the air with deadly accuracy, and feeling the bursts of mage power that went along with it, Tony decided that controlling the disc's flight trajectory was probably a part of Cap's primary mage power. Somehow Cap also pushed away the lingering feeling of the blue fog. Tony wasn’t sure how that worked. But more than that, he wanted to know: how the hell Cap was not being affected the way he was? Did it only work that way on him? Did Cap have some kind of resistance to it? Experience with this kind of crap? Nothing about the way this tech worked made any sense. 

For that matter... it wasn’t at all clear who was doing what, either, with all of the mage power being thrown around. The feeling of constant mage power use reminded Tony of one weekend he'd happened to spend in Paris years ago; the church bells had rung for hours after the election of the new pope, and all of the tolling bells had mingled into a low din of continuous sound, making the individual bells impossible to pick out of the noise. It was just as impossible now to tell which spell Cap was using at any given time, and the alien, almost electric, feeling of Loki’s power use wasn’t making that any easier. 

Setting the issue aside to mull over later, Tony rejoined the fight, launching himself into the air just enough to make a three-point landing in front of Loki. He landed with a loud clang of metal armour on flagstone plaza, cracking a few of the large stones, and this time, he managed to blast the ridiculously over-the-top scepter out of Loki’s hands. Granted, that was mostly through luck and JARVIS’ targeting assist, but he did it. 

Managing to adapt to the change in circumstances almost immediately, Cap jumped on the opening the move gave him and basically tackled Loki to the ground. He came up with their opponent in an efficient wrestling hold, and caught Tony’s attention with his eyes as he called the SHIELD quinjet back into the square to pick them up. 

Tony leveled his entire arsenal at Loki as he stood. "Make a move, Reindeer Games," Tony couldn't resist the taunt. It really was a ridiculous helmet. 

This time, Loki simply raised his hands in surrender. Behind his mask, Tony eyed him warily. He'd seen the man fighting Steve with vicious ruthlessness. Neither had been holding back much. Had experienced the same, himself. _This feels too easy._

The few bystanders still standing around the edges of the square watched warily as they left. 

\------ 

It was perhaps five minutes after they'd corralled Loki -- who Tony privately thought looked like a sinister Renaissance Faire reject -- and taken off that the quinjet suddenly shuddered under an onslaught of wind and rain that seemed to come out of nowhere. Accompanying it was a surge of alien-feeling mage power. It was familiar, and totally wrong, all at once, and made Tony want to find a convenient place to sit down while he processed it. He had no idea how Cap managed not to react to it. Agent Romanov, who was flying the jet, cursed vehemently in Russian as she fought with the controls, the quinjet bucking and shuddering under the stress. Tony was thrown to his right, and hit the wall of the jet with a grunt. He smirked, as amused as he was impressed, once he'd caught his balance. There were even a few phrases in Romanov's tirade that he didn't recognize despite his past business dealings with several prominent Russian businesses and the associated social events. He'd picked up the swears first, naturally. 

Cap, having managed to keep to his feet through the turbulence, still had his eyes on their prisoner. Tony almost laughed when Cap gave Loki an arch look and quipped, "what's wrong? Scared of a little lightning?" 

Loki had given him a sarcastic condescending sneer in return and replied, "hardly. But I'm not overly fond of what follows." 

Tony's smirk disappeared when, nearly immediately after the sentence had been uttered, a second surge of mage power, this one larger than the first, rolled through him. A loud thud echoed through the cabin as he tried to recover his equilibrium; something big had just landed atop the jet. 

_Fuck. I knew this seemed too simple. What does this smug asshole know that we don't? Did he know whatever that was would happen?_ Tony was about to voice a question to that effect, but Cap reached for the release of the jet's cargo ramp. Tony tried to forestall him. "Cap, what are you--" 

"I'm not about to wait around to be attacked, Shellhead." 

"We have no idea what's out there!" 

Cap gave him a look as the cargo doors opened. "I'm trying to find out what's going on. Without destroying the jet or letting whoever is out there do it." 

The moment the opening was large enough, a blur of red, black and silver flew through, grabbed their prisoner by the throat, and flew back out. 

"Shit," Tony yelped, getting a chastising glance from Cap for the swear. "Okay, that's it. I've had enough of this bizarre mission and its sub-sub-conspiracies." Tony stomped closer to the edge of the cargo ramp as he spoke, but before he could launch himself after their prisoner, Cap grabbed him by the shoulder. 

"Wait! We need a plan of attack." 

Tony turned to look at him knowing there was pure challenge in his eyes and voice, for all that Cap couldn't see him. He shrugged off the hand, careful not to catch it between the plates of his armour and injure his friend, then turned to the still-open bay doors of the jet. "I have a plan, Winghead: attack." 

\------ 

It hadn't gone well. 

His plan had turned into a full on brawl with a tall blond guy built like a Viking, with armour to match. He looked as anachronistic as Loki did, really. The ensuing fight had really done a number on the armour, though. Despite his anachronistic looks and speech patterns, this guy -- who was unironically claiming to be Thor, God of Thunder -- packed one hell of a punch. He was going to be hammering dents out of his leg panels for days, and there were several sets of fried circuits in the arm servos. He could feel all of the damage with his technomage’s senses, like a metaphysical itch he couldn’t scratch without his tools and workshop. 

They’d gotten their prisoner and Thor both back aboard the quinjet and taken off without a hitch, which had made Tony uneasy. Something about Loki’s easy acceptance of his capture, the drastic change in his demeanour from combative to passive, the way he hadn’t bothered to run while Tony and Cap had duked it out with Thor... all of it had Tony very much on edge. 

There had to be a reason for it, but he couldn’t see it. 

Cap’s fussing wasn’t helping either. The man was very concerned that Iron Man had gotten injured in the fight, and refused to let Tony brush off the question. 

“Shellhead,” Cap broke into Tony’s thoughts, right on cue, “you never answered my question.” 

“I’m fine. Quit worrying.” 

Cap scowled. “You are _not_ fine. Your armour’s half destroyed.” 

“That’s the point, Cap. The armour is supposed to take the hits for me. It’s designed that way,” Tony tried, hoping that pointing that out might calm Cap a bit. 

“And what about defending yourself?” Cap challenged, clearly not caring about their audience one bit. 

Tony could feel the eyes on him like a physical touch, though, and he forced back a shudder. “Those systems are intact, too.” 

“Captain,” Agent Romanov interjected, “we’re being hailed by the Helicarrier, if you have a moment.” 

Cap gave him one more long stare, then nodded. “We’re not through discussing this.” Turning, he moved into the cockpit of the small craft, leaving Tony to stand guard over the two Asgardians. 

Somewhat to his surprise, neither of them commented, though Loki looked almost gleeful. 

Getting the weirdo and his alleged brother back to the Helicarrier didn't help, either. Frustratingly, Loki refused to say a word to actually answer any questions, preferring to needle Fury instead, to Fury's annoyance and Tony's amusement. Tony leaned against the wall in his armour, wincing when one of the dents pressed against one of his rising bruises. The other one, claiming to be Thor, wasn't making any more sense, for all that he was more willing to talk to them. Cap, Banner, Richards, the remaining scientists, and Agent Romanov were in the room with Tony, watching Fury and Hill conduct their respective interrogations on the holoscreen of the conference table on the Helicarrier’s bridge. Every one of them looked as restless as he felt. 

This was getting them no closer to an answer about what was going on, and they all knew it. 

After Fury was through trying to pry information out of Loki, he returned to the bridge. In the time between his departure from Loki’s cell and his arrival on the bridge, Richards got Thor’s attention, and started interrogating him, rapid-fire, not allowing enough time for an answer in between each question. Thor had an expression on his face that seemed to be caught straddling the line between amused and indulgent. 

“So, Thor, how did you get here? Did you use a portal? Is your home in a different part of the multiverse? Why are you here? How are you going to get back? What other worlds can you travel to? How does that travel work?” Fury’s entrance onto the bridge was enough to have Thor glancing over, and everyone else following suit. Richards didn’t seem to notice. “Can you --” 

“Dr. Richards,” Fury cut in, “let the man answer.” 

Thor gave him a nod. “I will reply to your queries once this affair has been settled. Those answers are less important right now than some others.” He paused, visibly steeling himself. “Loki left our world by means I do not know, and came to Midgard to conquer your people. He intends to bring ruin on your city of New York with his army of Chitauri soldiers, and will continue bringing your major cities to their knees one by one until you capitulate.” 

Cap looked grim. “What can we do to stop them?” 

“There is little to do but fight, Captain of the Americas,” Thor replied. “Even in Asgard, not much is known about the Chitauri. Among our people they are but myths and legends. An enemy so long ago vanquished that, even in our long memories, they are as shadows.” 

Dr. Banner jumped in. “Can we stop them from invading?” 

“No,” Thor shook his head. “Not directly, in any event. I do not know how Loki means to bring them here.” 

Tony wanted to sigh. So they knew the names of their attackers, but not how or when they would strike, and the opponent they had captured wasn’t talking. Nor would he. That was painfully clear. 

Their big problem now was that there was little they could do but wait for Loki to tip his hand, or Barton to make a move. Under other circumstances, it might have been possible to track Barton, but the man was as good as Fury claimed. Anything Tony and the rest of the Science Brigade had come up with and tried while he’d been here in his civilian identity had failed. 

In the end, they didn't have to wait long. Tony took advantage of the lull to return to the mansion for his spare armour, returned to his private workshop when he’d left briefly earlier to deposit Tony at home, The rest of the time was spent trying unsuccessfully to track Barton. Loki had been languishing in his cell for just over two supremely boring and empty hours when the alarms went off right on the tail end of a strangely blurred-feeling burst of mage power. Tony cursed, pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning against, and started for the conference room's door. 

Before he could reach it, the Helicarrier rocked violently underfoot, throwing him to the floor, whereupon Steve promptly tripped over his metal-encased legs and landed on top of him with a surprised 'oof'. 

With a quiet click, Tony's comm activated and Fury's voice came over the line. "Iron Man, we've lost the forward port side engine and we're losing altitude. Can you get your boss to walk you through starting it back up? If another engine goes down we'll fall out of the sky." 

"No promises," he responded, "but I'll see what I can do." He'd have to deal with SHIELD hacking into his comm line later. For now, Tony thanked all Seven Mages that he'd put the voice transcoder between himself and all communications, rather than just using it for the helmet's speakers. Otherwise Fury would have recognised his voice for sure. Hell, the jig might be up regardless. 

"What is it, Shellhead?" Steve asked, having pulled back to settle on his haunches. He stood, offered a hand and pulled Tony to his feet before Tony answered the question. "Got a call from someone?" 

Tony eyed him, knowing Steve wouldn't see it through the faceplate. "Why do you ask?" 

"You went all focused," Steve shrugged, "and I could tell your attention wasn't on me." 

"One of the engines went down, presumably courtesy of our attackers, and Fury wants me to have Mr. Stark troubleshoot it remotely." 

"You can do that?" 

"Sure. Just gotta make sure he's not going to freak out about you being up here with me for that." 

"He'd better not," Steve scowled. “You both have overprotective tendencies.” 

\------ 

In the end, Tony freaked out anyway. 

He'd been forced to get into the turbine of the engine and push to give it the jump start it needed. Meantime, Cap, fighting off several enemy agents, hung over the edge of the damaged structure of the Helicarrier for far longer than Tony was strictly comfortable with. In fact, the only way he'd have been remotely okay with that, would have been for the length of time to be zero. But Steve seemed to be equally freaked out by the time Iron Man had spent inside the engine, judging by his expression and the lack of a proper scolding, so Tony figured they were on level ground, there. 

The pair of arms wrapped tightly around the armour helped calm him down. It seemed like he could feel them, and despite knowing that the sensation was obviously not actually there, it was comforting. Tony entertained the fleeting thought that Steve gave the best hugs, and he might have to try to find out, after this was over. He got the impression that it had helped calm Cap, as well. 

They found out -- once they were both finished dealing with the engine and about to rejoin the fray -- that Barton had been and gone, deftly slipping past Fury's defenses and escaping with their prisoner. 

The casualties had been high, as well. A lot of SHIELD agents were out of commission for the foreseeable future. Some possibly permanently, though there had been no deaths reported yet. The medical staff was in the process of triaging and evacuating the worst injured by helicopter to land-based hospitals in NYC proper. Of the upper command structure, only Hill and Coulson had come through with nothing to report but minor injuries. Even Fury had taken a bullet. Luckily for him, it had missed anything vital. 

The whole thing was egg on Tony's face, really. He'd been flying high on the assumption that his redundancies were unbreakable, and that Fury's assessment of Barton's ability was exaggerated. 

It really wasn't. And all of the casualties today were effectively his fault. He’d pieced together roughly how his systems had been bypassed, now that the initial panic had subsided. Somehow -- and Tony would love to know how -- Barton had known exactly which systems to disable and in which order. And where they were. Several were hidden in locations that were nominally supposed to only be known to the agents at the very top of the command structure. Barton had managed to shut down the intrusion detection systems, the surveillance cameras, all of the locks in the detention level, and then blow the Helicarrier’s engine as a diversion. Not one of those was an easy task, even on its own, and he’d pulled off all four without anyone knowing until after he’d done it. 

Tony fought the urge to pull off the helmet and run his gauntlets through his hair. It stung, coming so hard on the heels of his decision to get out of the weapons market and his kidnapping. He'd finally relaxed enough to think that, now that Obie had been dealt with, he could finally start working to counteract his legacy of blood and death, but it seemed that was impossible. Even if all he designed was support equipment and vehicles, it seemed even that was enough to add to the deaths in his ledger. 

Fury stood, his upper left leg bandaged thoroughly, and limped grimly over to stand at the head of the conference table on the bridge and scowl blackly at everyone gathered there. It served as enough of a distraction to pull Tony's thoughts away from the spiral of guilt they'd entered, though barely. The ragged remains of the team Fury had tried to put together to deal with the science were mixed in with the superhero help and all of them were either exhausted or injured or both. No one but Iron Man met his stare openly. No one but Steve met it and maintained their resolve. 

"You yahoos better get your acts together," he said simply, "or we'll lose badly." Another glance around the table. "Iron Man." 

Tony nodded acknowledgment, but said nothing. 

Fury nodded back, gesture abrupt. "Think you can convince your boss to help optimise the search algorithm we already have? We need to find Loki and Barton, pronto." 

Tony shrugged, exaggerating the movement so that it would translate through the armour, and replied, "I can try." 

An hour later he left for the mansion to 'retrieve his boss'. As before, on the trip up to the Helicarrier JARVIS piloted the empty suit, though it was obvious that he didn't approve of the charade. "Sir," the AI had said on what might have been a sigh in an organic throat, "you _must_ know that this deception will not hold for long." 

"Maybe not," Tony had replied with more than a hint of black humour in his tone, "but it's enough for now. I'd rather not have to deal with the kind of in-fighting that letting that tidbit of information slip would cause right now." 

"Yes, sir." 

It was also very necessary if Tony wanted to keep the various government organizations, be they US armed forces or people like Fury, from trying to take the armour and mass produce it, but that was an issue that could be dealt with later. 

\------ 

In almost prophetic style, Tony's return to the Helicarrier sparked one hell of an argument, albeit several hours after he'd been allowed back aboard. Tony had, as requested, spent a significant portion of the time looking through the coding work Richards and Banner had done and had quickly found ways to increase the efficiency of their algorithm by a factor of at least a thousand through relatively simple code optimisations. 

Smart both of his colleagues might be, but they weren't technomages and knew little to nothing about computer architecture. That wasn't to say they weren't both good with code. You could be good at coding algorithms and still fail at getting them to run without hogging resources or taking a while to run, and right now efficiency was key. His colleagues had written their facial recognition program before he'd arrived, and so he hadn't been able to give any input until now. 

Once he’d finished combing through their code, he started it running again and sat back with a self-satisfied smirk. The tweaks he'd implemented had been simple and should speed everything up immensely, based on his estimates. Standing caused several pops as his back protested the hunched posture he'd maintained as he read and typed. Tony suppressed a wince and casually sauntered out of the room in search of a cup of coffee. 

Richards had cornered him there fifteen minutes later and started complaining at him about the changes he'd made. Tony'd tuned him out after the first thirty seconds; something about using modern tech to its limits, instrument sensitivity, and data acquisition. Whatever. The point was... he'd tried to explain the concept of diminishing returns to Reed before, but it never seemed to take. The man was a scientist, not an engineer, and it showed. He was brilliant, but not overly practical. And, unfortunately, trying to point out that they really didn't _need_ six decimal places worth of precision on their detection threshold, that requiring that level of precision only slowed down the search considerably, only served to give Richards more fuel for his argument somehow. They'd disagreed on this topic for years, and it seemed that they would for years to come. 

Tony sighed silently and called for backup. Minutes later, the armour, piloted by JARVIS again, put in an appearance, the heavy clangs of his footfalls on the metal of the deck a clear sign that he meant business. "Mr. Stark," he interjected, tone firm, "your presence is requested in the workshop by Captain Rogers." 

"Of course, Iron Man. Catch you later, Reed," Tony gladly took the excuse. He rubbed at his neck as he walked down the corridor, carefully throttling down the urge to go back and shake Richards until he saw sense. It had been a long day, and it wasn't over yet. 

That encounter had left him considering the option of barricading himself in his temporary workshop. 

\------ 

The search yielded no results until the following morning. Granted, that _had_ meant he'd been forced to spend the night on a SHIELD-issue cot they'd scrounged up somewhere, but at least he'd gotten some sleep. He knew he'd need it in the next few hours. 

The moment everyone was gathered to hear the results of the search algorithm's work, they had started in on one another, almost before Reed and Bruce could tell them what they'd found. As soon as they'd revealed that Loki was planning to center his attack on New York City, all hell broke loose and everyone was arguing. Bruce didn't even have a chance to finish his sentence before Reed had cut him off, disputing something about the analysis he'd done to reach that result. Tony couldn't be bothered to pay attention to their little spat. He was more interested in the map projected over the table. He didn't get a chance to really sink his teeth into it and properly decipher what it meant, though. Somewhat startlingly, Tony found himself squaring off with Steve, not quite sure how that had happened, and the weird blue fog was flickering at the edges of his perceptions again. 

"If they're attacking New York, we've got to get you out of here, Tony," Steve was saying. "We'll need Iron Man for this, and that leaves you without your bodyguard." 

"Oh, so I'm supposed to just pick up and run because you say so?" Tony bristled. "I don't think so. Besides. It would take longer to get my jet off the ground than it'll take Loki to spring his attack. Filing flight plans is still a thing required prior to departure, last I checked, and it takes upwards of an hour to do." 

"That just means we've got to get to him first and keep him occupied until the police can organise an evacuation of the city," Steve shot back. 

"Look, Iron Man can get there faster on his own than the rest of you," Tony tried. "I can ask him to go on ahead and distract Loki until the rest of you can get there." Logic might work on a strategist, right? He rubbed at his temple. Something felt off. Like he was trying to stare through a fog bank. None of this made any sense, but at the same time, it did. It was giving him a headache. 

"Tony, you're not going to stay here undefended," Steve's voice was tight, and the words were clipped. Short and surprisingly angry. "We've just had a demonstration of how easily Loki can get through the Helicarrier's defenses." 

Fury glared venomously at him. "Yeah? Well if you yahoos'd just captured Barton, we wouldn't be in this mess, and my Helicarrier wouldn't need retrofitting. And, for that matter, I don't see why Stark warrants the extra protection and the rest of us don't." 

"Your people are so petty," Thor put in, sounding somewhere between amused and surprised. "And tiny." 

"Watch who you call names, Thor," Tony replied with a sardonic laugh. "The Director," he spat out the title like an epithet, "might sic his agents on you, and I suspect at least this one here," he waved vaguely at Agent Romanov, "wouldn't mind following that order." 

"Excuse me?" Fury looked, well, furious. Probably because Tony had just outed him about his willingness to use force to get what he wanted, even on someone politically untouchable like Thor. "I'm seriously reconsidering my offer to pay for your services, Stark." 

Tony sneered at him and would have continued, but even as he opened his mouth he felt himself thrown across the room and whatever had been fogging his senses seemed to clear. Before he could say a word, he felt hands on his hip and waist, urging him up. 

"Come on, Tony, I know you're awake. On your feet." 

Steve. Tony recognized him more or less on instinct, still dazed. Staggering to his feet, steadied by Steve's warm hands, he began moving in the direction Steve pointed him without argument. Wondered as he stumbled forward how the anger had just evaporated. "What the fuck just happened? Where's Iron Man?" 

He had to find JARVIS and the armour. The Helicarrier felt like it was listing under his feet, but Tony wasn't sure whether that was actual damage to the craft or just his balance being shot to hell by the explosion. 

"Not sure," Steve replied, "but we need to get you off this ship." 

Tony shook his head emphatically, staggering into the wall as they turned a corner. "What we _need_ is to find Iron Man." 

"No time. I'm not about to let you get yourself killed." Steve looked grim, and his hands twitched. “Peggy would have my head on a platter for that.” 

He had a point, there. And that went both ways. Aunt Peggy would do the same to him if he let Steve get himself killed permanently this time. For that matter, Tony could see Steve was clearly wishing he had his shield. He stopped where he was for a moment and thought quickly. The shield in question was currently locked away in the armoury with the agents' weapons stores. It also happened to be where Nick had insisted he leave his suitcase with his spare armour -- which Tony had passed off as spare parts to repair the main armour with. An excuse that had the advantage that it was even potentially true. "Well, you're not going anywhere without your shield and uniform. Iron Man would rightly be upset with me, and that shield of yours is one-of-a-kind anyway. We're going to the armoury." 

Tony started walking and assumed Steve would follow, fairly certain it would pay off. He heard a low growl of frustration, but then Steve was back at his shoulder. "This is not a good idea, Tony. You should be heading for the evac with the other scientists. Odds are good we'll need your expertise later, and I'd feel a lot better about the whole situation." 

"And what about me," Tony shot back, "what about my feelings? I don't like the idea of just leaving you and Iron Man here and jumping ship. I'm not going before we find him and get you equipped. Not on your life." 

SHIELD agents were everywhere; some held fire extinguishers like talismans and others their weapons, a third subset tried to back up one set or the other but failed because the comm system was down. The chaos made Tony pause, looking for an efficient way through it. Steve simply waded through the harried agents, ignoring them, and Tony did his best to follow without getting cut off. The carrier lurched underfoot again, and this time everything not bolted down slid to starboard as the deck hit an angle of about 15 degrees. Tony bit back a yelp as he was thrown off balance and into the bulkhead to his left. Steve was there to catch him before he could hit the deck, but it was a close thing. 

"Shit," Tony ground out between his teeth, "that felt like we just lost an engine." 

Steve swore. "That does it. You're getting to the lifeboats and off this thing." 

"No." Tony was standing his ground on this. "No, not until I know you've got your gear on. Besides. I need my suitcase." 

"Where is Iron Man, anyway," Steve demanded, peering through the distressed agents crowding the hallways as though that would make Iron Man's distinctive armour appear out of the crowd somehow. "I thought he was supposed to stay close to you." 

"He is. Fury required him to stay away from the workshop, remember? Wanted him to stay on the helipad. Don't ask me why that man does anything. His secrets have secrets." Tony pushed away from the wall and Steve and started walking again. He wanted this settled, so that he could get his armour on. 

Some five long minutes later, they finally managed to get to the armoury -- which was locked down tight due to the attack -- and Tony was treated to the sight of Captain America strong-arming his way past the man posted to stand watch. Ordinarily, there would be several more men posted here, but they were currently elsewhere. Presumably helping put out fires. 

"Sir," the young guard tried, "you're not authorised to--" 

"Son," Steve stared him down implacably, "just don't." 

"But Director Fury will--" 

"I don't care. You are between me and the tools I need to fight the threat." 

The guard swallowed hard and stepped aside, hitting the palmprint lock to open the door as he moved. "Yes, sir." 

The moment the door opened, Steve ducked in, grabbed the shield, his uniform, and Tony's suitcase, and stepped back out, nodding to the now thoroughly intimidated guard as he went. "Come on, Tony. I'm getting you out of here." 

Thankfully, before Tony had to respond and piss Steve off again, Iron Man appeared out of the chaos. In his peripheral vision, Tony saw Steve give Iron Man a nod and duck through the nearest door. Presumably to get changed into his uniform. Iron Man stepped in close and asked, "Mr. Stark, are you alright?" 

Before JARVIS was satisfied that he was indeed in one piece and uninjured, Steve reappeared. "Shellhead," he addressed JARVIS, "you need to get him out of here. There's a good chance that this ship will go down." 

With a sharp slash of his hand, Tony signalled to JARVIS to cut short whatever scan he was doing. "I'm fine, Iron Man. Let me check over your systems and then I want you to help Steve." He turned to face his friend, struck again by the symbolism of Steve's uniform and the figure he cut in it. _Damn it,_ he silently reprimanded himself, _now is not the time._ Out loud, he continued, "Steve, get out of here, you'll do more good on deck. Iron Man will get me to one of the lifeboats and come join you." 

A stubborn look descended over Steve's face for a long moment before Steve reluctantly gave in. "Fine." With a last frustrated look over his shoulder, Steve left. Ignoring the young guard's lingering stares, Tony hauled the suit around the next corner by its shoulderplate, ducked into a nearby janitorial closet, and pulled the armour on as quickly as he knew how. 

With any luck Steve would be busy enough not to notice much until enough time had passed for his stated plan of action to be plausible. 

Under a minute later, not caring that Cap was likely to spot him, he was hovering over the main deck, looking for Cap's distinctive uniform among the mass of dark-clad SHIELD agents and their attackers. The two of which were relatively difficult to tell apart. Engaging the attackers, Tony quickly lost himself in the fight, only occasionally remembering to look for Cap's shield or uniform. On one of his fly-bys of the port side of the carrier, in the areas away from the mêlée, Tony saw that agents were quickly filing onto the lifeboats and jettisoning, counting off as they went. The lifeboats themselves, designed for use whether the carrier was in the sky or the ocean, were equipped with parachutes and submersible, located five decks below the flight deck. Every sixty seconds or so, another lifeboat disappeared, and with each one the flight deck cleared a little more. 

Something like ten minutes later, as the lifeboats on the starboard side of the carrier started dropping, seemingly between one moment and the next, Cap appeared at his shoulder during one of his rare landings. "Good to see you're back, Shellhead. Stark okay?" 

Tony turned to face his friend and repulsored an attacker coming up behind Cap. "He's fine, Winghead. Doing what he can remotely from the lifeboat. What's the situation here? I haven't been able to disengage long enough to get below decks." 

Following right on the heels of a sharp burst of mage power from who knew which combatant, Cap's shield flew past Tony from behind him and to his right, and he watched the thing ricochet three times off of various objects behind Cap before it was effortlessly caught again as it arced back towards its owner. The shield seemed to land in Cap's hand as if magnetised, and _that_ was an intriguing idea. If he-- 

"Not sure." Cap's voice broke into his thoughts, and Tony wanted to shake himself by the scruff of his neck for letting himself be so distracted during a fight. "SHIELD's comms aren't back up yet, and I've been up here for the most part." 

As Cap finished the sentence, the deck shuddered under their feet and the Helicarrier began listing even farther to starboard. The whine of overstressed motors and the grind of metal on metal was all Tony could hear for a long moment, as they began to fall out of the sky. The remaining starboard engine had evidently failed, whether through sabotage or strain was unclear. The carrier, now at almost a 30 degree angle to the horizontal, was not going to be safe much longer. The combatants all knew it too, breaking off the fight in twos and threes to run for whatever escape route presented itself. The infiltrators only tried for the lifeboats once. The attempt had resulted in a vicious scrum and more than one of the attackers had ended up going over the side of the carrier. Tony winced. Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die. 

It was obvious -- to him at least -- that this was Loki's second attempt to kill or disband the team that had been fielded against him, and that there would be no saving the ship so easily this time. It was a nice juicy distraction at a time where they didn't need any whatsoever. Then there was the fact that this second attack had gone pretty much the same way as the first. That was a fairly good tip off. Loki was doing his best to make sure that they were occupied trying to keep SHIELD intact rather than fighting his army, and it was working, too. With SHIELD decimated, there would be very little in the way of ground support for their team and Richards’. There was no way he and Cap could rescue everyone on board, either. There simply wasn't time. They'd just have to hope that the SHIELD agents were well-trained in their emergency procedures. 

As he turned to take stock of the situation, he saw that anyone who could was running for the carrier's escape pods. Anyone who couldn't was doing their best to wrap up whatever fight they were in and do the same. A last group of SHIELD medics in white coats hurried alongside a gurney, ushering it as smoothly as they could manage into an elevator, then jumping in after it, urging the doors shut as quickly as they could go as they rode it down to the level of the carrier that housed the lifeboats. 

His ears popped painfully with the changing pressure as the Atlantic seemed to slowly rise up to meet them, and he gave in to the necessity. "Cap," he said over the air flowing in turbulent gusts past the deck of the ship, "we'd better either find a way to get your comms working, about, say, five minutes ago, or get out of here ourselves and hope the others manage to do the same. This carrier has all the aerodynamics of, well, a flying boat, and there's no way we're keeping her in the air this time." 

"Then we'd better try to find the team." 

"Somehow I knew you were gonna say that," Tony grumbled. 

\------ 

It took thirty thousand feet, two almost agonisingly long minutes, ten flights of stairs that Tony eschewed in favour of flying down them and Steve simply leapt down from landing to landing, and a _very_ last minute leap off the deck during which Tony had grabbed Steve around the waist and upped the output of his jetboots to maximum, leaving them hovering over the water, to find and evacuate the team. 

They had found Banner herding Richards and several other terrified scientists onto a lifeboat. The others were already aboard. Tony had enough time to see Thor flying off toward one of the lifeboats bobbing in the water with a couple of injured agents and Romanov in one of his ridiculously large arms. And that, of course, was when they ran out of time. He and Steve only barely made it off the Helicarrier themselves before it hit the relatively shallow water just off New York Harbour. 

The output from the remaining engines had slowed their descent just enough to make the impact with the water survivable, but large sections of the 'carrier were almost instantly flooded, and she quickly wound up on her side in the shallow waters of the harbour. Tony groaned, thankful the sound wasn't projected beyond his helmet. There would likely be a lot of casualties from this, and he knew Steve would blame himself for this mess. And that was incorrect; Tony knew he shared that blame. But there was nothing he could have done to keep the Helicarrier afloat in the time he'd had aboard ship, and he knew it. Nothing any of them could have done. The second time around, there had been far more destruction. Their opponent hadn't wanted to give them the leeway to recover as he had the first time. 

If he'd been thinking ahead he could probably have carried at least a dozen more people off the falling ship while Steve worked to clear the interior of the carrier. His refusal to use his mage powers in the suit was at the root of that little issue. If he'd been thinking tactically, he could have done it. He was at least partially to blame for that one, and, for that matter, he'd _known_ Loki was going to try something-- 

"Shellhead?" Steve's voice broke him out of his thoughts again. And that was probably for the best. 

"Yes?" 

"We'd probably better get a hold of the Coast Guard." 

"Right. Of course. Sorry." He ignored whatever it was Steve muttered in response -- something about it not being his fault -- and muted his external speakers to make the call. "J? Get me the Coast Guard, will you?" 

"One moment, Sir." JARVIS' cool competent tones soothed his raw nerves in a way few things could. Tony nodded just slightly in acknowledgment, and then he was making arrangements for those stranded in the water to be picked up. Bare minutes later, JARVIS highlighted the approaching ships on the helmet's HUD. 

Satisfied that they would be taken care of, Tony turned his attention back to Steve. "So, I suppose we gather the team." 

"That was the idea." 

"How and where? I'm only seeing Banner and Thor, right now." Letting them drift lower, Tony pointed out the scientist. Thor had pulled up into a stationary hover over the Helicarrier, but dove toward the surface of the water a moment later, before re-emerging with a spluttering passenger in his grasp. 

Steve twitched a shoulder in an approximation of a shrug. "Follow the Coast Guard ships in and find the team, once they're safely on land. Thor is already dealing with fishing out the rest of the survivors, and the rest of us should focus on Loki. If you stay put and I search we should be able to minimise the time we need to find them. We never got to hear the results of the search except in very broad terms, so we don't know where to go, but Agent Romanov or Dr. Banner should have an idea." 

That got an amused smirk out of Tony. Impatience had gotten them into this mess. Well, he kind of suspected Loki had helped them along, provoked the fight somehow, but that was a moot point, at the moment. "You got it." 

A half hour later, Tony and Steve were back on solid ground, most of the SHIELD agents had been rescued and brought to the Port Authority for triage and dispatch to local hospitals for those who needed medical attention, and rescue divers were searching for any others that could be easily found aboard the shipwrecked 'carrier. The current headcount of recovered passengers was 523 out of the total 559, despite the desperate scramble to evac. SHIELD had drilled its agents well in emergency procedures, and it showed. Of those already rescued, 497 were uninjured, including all ten civilian scientists, and most of the rest only had minor wounds. There were a few broken bones and concussions, but all things considered, they'd gotten off lightly. 

Which wasn't to say that Tony wasn't torn between going back to help the rescue divers and dealing with Loki. Feeling responsible for all thirty-six people still left unaccounted for was one thing, but if Loki succeeded, Tony would have to balance helping those thirty-six against the entire city, or worse. Joining the divers wasn't really a choice he could make, but the knowledge cut deep nevertheless. 

Thor was nowhere to be seen, apparently finished helping the divers already, and Steve took off in search of him, uniform standing out brightly amid the darker monotone of the SHIELD fatigues. Under a minute later, Bruce managed to fight through the crush of people, bringing Agent Romanov and Reed with him. 

"Iron Man!" Bruce smiled broadly, clearly very relieved to see him. He was soaked to the waist as a result of a dunking. "Where's the Captain? He needs to hear this. The tracking algorithm output implies that Loki's location is here in Manhattan." 

Naturally, that was the moment Thor appeared, carrying Steve like a sack of flour under one arm. He landed next to them and smiled broadly. So Steve had found him. "I am glad to see you are all well, comrades. The Captain of America has suggested that one amongst you would know where my kinsman plans to strike." 

Bruce caught Tony's eyes through his mask, and somehow all the pieces fell into place. The whole debacle suddenly made a twisted sort of sense. Why Loki hadn't protested his capture -- he'd wanted to get a bead on his enemies' capabilities, why he'd voiced no protest over where they were taking him -- closer to his objective, so why not hitch a free ride, why he'd put on such a show in Stuttgart -- to get their attention, and distract them from the rest of his plan... Tony wanted to shake his head in amazement. The man had picked one of the most high-profile targets possible for his attack. 

"Stark Tower is the most likely target," Richards answered, voicing the thought Tony had forced himself not to verbalise. “It’s centrally located in Manhattan, and high-profile. A landmark. And the roof is more suited to holding a portal machine or whatever technology he plans to use than those of the other high rises nearby.” 

Agent Romanov nodded, her expression as bland as ever, as she put in her two cents. "You need to warn your employer, Iron Man. Loki intends to summon an army somehow, but we couldn't determine what he plans to do with it beyond bringing New York to its knees." 

"How doesn't matter; what matters is the army. I’ll let Mr. Stark know, but I don’t think he’ll be able to do much about it from the lifeboat he’s stashed on. We have to find a way to stop Loki on our own," Tony shook his head and turned to Steve. "So, Cap, you're the Man with the Plan. How do we approach this?" 

Steve gave him a half-hearted glare before replying. "We get over there, find out what he's planning, and stop him." 

Tony snorted. "Bit simplistic, but it'll do. Come on, Winghead, I'll give you a lift. I need to get to Stark Tower anyway. I'm letting Ms. Potts know to start evacuating the building and sounding the alarm through the media, but she'll need the visibility of a few guys in brightly colored spandex like us to back the message up. Dr. Banner, Dr. Richards, you might want to find us some reinforcements or get to a safe place. Maybe both." 

Bruce nodded, expression bemused. Reed gave him a speculative look, and put in, "I need to get to the Baxter Building and find the rest of my team. We'll support you as best we can, Captain." 

Bruce added, "I'll join in if I'm needed. Not before. The Other Guy tends to cause more damage than he prevents." 

With a nod, Tony stepped back over to Cap, pulling him in by the waist and getting a surprised exclamation for his troubles before a pair of hands settled on the armour, one at his shoulder and the other at his waist. "Ready to go?" 

Steve rolled his eyes at him but nodded. "See you at Stark Tower," he directed the comment at the others as Tony fired up the jetboots and took off, the Port Authority slowly shrinking then falling out of sight beneath them. 

The same sensation of fog seemed to cloud his senses as he rose into the sky, and his arm tightened around Steve. He pulled up to hover for a moment. 

"Iron Man? Something wrong?" 

"I think Loki is trying to mess with us again," Tony replied, knowing Steve would hear the frown in his voice. 

"What makes you--" Steve's words suddenly cut off as the feeling of fog stepped deftly aside to allow a nauseatingly off-center blast of mage power to the forefront of Tony's awareness. A choked noise came from Steve's throat and he groaned, looking suddenly airsick. Tony had to force down a similar reaction; puking in the armour was a Bad Idea. He tore his attention back to his passenger. 

"Winghead? Cap, are you alright?" Even as he asked, Tony watched his friend recover his composure. 

"I'll be fine. It caught me off guard." 

"What did?" He knew exactly what, but letting Cap know about his mage powers was only going to reveal his identity. 

Cap growled under his breath, probably thinking Tony wouldn't hear it before he replied. "Whatever that blast of mage power was." 

"Sir," JARVIS spoke up, "interference from the device that has been activated on the roof is causing a number of my processes to hang, and you have an incoming call from Ms. Danvers." 

Hard on the heels of that statement, the sensation of fog intensified, this time accompanied by some complex electronics that just sounded _off_ , and Tony cursed. "Whatever he's up to, he's starting it now, and it's something _big_ ," he told Cap. "I'm getting you to ground level at Grand Central. That'll be an important point of contact for the police and fire department, since it's one of the main traffic hubs for the city in addition to one of the biggest conduits for traffic out of Manhattan. One of us should coordinate with them, and I'm nominating you. You're our best strategist, and nationally well-known to boot. Here," Tony opened the small compartment at his hip and pulled out the spare communicator he kept there. He shoved it at Cap then continued, "take this, so that we can coordinate. Mr. Stark's orders. I’m and going back up to the roof of the Tower to find out what the hell is going on up there." 

"Tell him--" 

Something exploded in the distance, vaguely in the direction of the Tower, making Tony wince and cutting off whatever Cap had been about to say. Something big had just happened, and... What the fuck was _that_? A column of weirdly shifting blue light was suddenly coming from the top of his Tower and his mage senses were screaming at him. 

"No time, Winghead. We'll worry about that later," he gritted out, letting himself slide out of his upright hover into a shallow climb, quickly and deftly threading a path between the high rise buildings, descending to ground level in front of Grand Central as promised seconds later. Their landing was a little rough, but Tony was hurried. He needed to get to the top of his tower and try to shut off whatever that thing was. Thankfully, the fight hadn't started yet, but the people around could sense that something was about to happen, some -- those with a self-preservation instinct, Tony suspected -- were grabbing their things and running. Others were staring up at Stark Tower and pointing excitedly. A few had their smartphones out and were recording. Those turned to film him as he dropped Cap off. "Do us both a favour and stay in comms contact, this time, will you," he suggested as he offered Cap the comm unit he’d been holding onto, thinking back to their first mission together in LA, "I might not have time to keep an eye on you constantly, today." 

"I was fine then," Cap huffed, taking the comm unit and replacing the SHIELD issue one with Tony’s, "and I'll be fine now. _Go_." 

Tony took the SHIELD comm and crushed it with his right boot. He wouldn’t be able to keep tabs on it during the upcoming fight, and it wouldn’t do to let that fall into someone else’s hands, regardless of how much he disliked Fury. "I'll check back in, in a minute or two, barring any interruptions or firefights," he informed their _de facto_ team leader. "I've got to go check out that portal device on the roof. Hopefully Richards will be back soon with his team." 

Giving Cap a half-salute and not waiting for a response, he fired the thrusters in his jetboots and poured on the acceleration, aiming for the roof of the Tower. Before he reached it, his comm line went live, and he could hear Cap giving orders. 

That discussion dealt with, he instructed JARVIS to put Carol through. “Ms. Marvel?” 

“Who-- Iron Man?” 

“That’s me. What can I do for you?” 

Carol cursed roundly. “You can damn well tell me what the fuck is going on!” 

“Well,” Tony replied ruefully, “some guy claiming to be a Norse god is summoning an army from outer space to take over the world, starting with New York, and he’s picked Stark Tower as the epicenter of his disaster in the making.” 

“What.” 

“I know, it sounds absolutely insane, put like that. But that’s the story. I’m about to try to see if I can disable whatever he’s got on the roof with Mr. Stark’s help. Captain America’s coordinating efforts on the ground.” He was halfway up the building, now. 

“Good. Someone I know I can work with. Give me his comms frequency.” 

“Take this one and modulate it up by 5%.” 

“Got it. And one last thing.” 

“What’s that?” 

“There are a few other veterans in the cadre itching to join in the fight.” 

Tony watched the last ten floors shoot past him as he flew upward and paused just long enough to make it look like he’d consulted someone else. “Tell them to be careful, and that they’ll get standard hazard pay plus 15%.” 

“Copy. Ms. Marvel out.” 

Slowing to a hover as he took in the state of his Tower, Tony considered the available options. There were a number of them, but they reduced to variations on two themes. He could blast the machine and hope that that deactivated the portal, but it appeared to be protected by a shield of some kind. Or he could land next to it and attempt to decipher where the off switch was, but given how alien it felt, that might take some time. 

The roof was bare, just as it was normally, with the exception of the machine, whatever it was. And Tony really wanted to know how they’d gotten it up there with no one noticing. Even if no one else was around, JARVIS had eyes everywhere, including on the roof. It would have taken some serious magery or hacking to get past his AI. The portal machine felt alien and exuded the same bizarre shade of blue that Loki had hit him with in Stuttgart. The similarity made Tony wary, and he approached cautiously. When nothing happened as the distance between him and the machine decreased, he cut his thrusters, and descended slowly. Suddenly remembering that he’d turned them off, Tony tuned back into the team comms. 

"-- need you to keep an eye on the army coming through the portal, Hawkeye." 

He landed on the roof as he interjected, "Any word from Richards? I'm looking at that device, whatever it is," Tony asked, keeping his surprise to himself for the moment. Who the hell was Hawkeye? "It seems to be generating the energy to hold that portal open." 

"Hey," a very strung-out looking stranger slurred at him as he emerged from behind the machine, drowning out most of Cap's reply, "welcome to the party! She wants to show us something." 

"How did you get up here? Are you high? Who wants to show who what?" Tony stared at him, blankly. Not that it showed under the faceplate. 

"It's beautiful! She wants to show us something!" The crackpot repeated. 

"Riiiiight." Giving the machine another long look, Tony charged up his repulsors, daring to try reaching out to the thing with his technomage's senses. All he got was an eerie round sensation, like a bell tolling, and a feeling of movement. This was nothing like normal tech, and he was willing to bet that the blue cube powering the whole thing was the missing tesseract. The odds that there were two glowing cubes of power in existence were pretty much nil. But none of that helped where it came to shutting the thing down. Tony scowled, trying to examine the thing with his mage senses and getting no further. The cube seemed to repel mage power somehow, or maybe just diffuse it, making it impossible to get any kind of bead on the thing. 

Giving up his attempts to make sense of the contraption, Tony fell back on intuition and his human senses. "Well, that looks like an energy field. Let's see how it reacts to some applied force." 

"Wait--" The drugged up weirdo tried to stop him, but the warning came too late. 

Tony fired, and the concussive force that the repulsor blast unleashed when it hit the energy field knocked both him and the weirdo over, with Tony landing half on top of the guy. 

A quick check to make sure the weirdo was okay revealed some minor bruising and nothing more, so Tony set the issue aside. He'd be fine where he was for now. "Can't seem to get through to the machine with my repulsors, Cap," he reported. "I might have to get Mr. Stark to have a look." 

"Not yet, Shellhead. Dr. Richards and his team just showed up, and so far things haven't gone south. Let Richards worry about the portal machine. I need you in the sky." 

Tony eyed the portal machine dubiously. "We can't just leave this thing on, Cap. They'll just keep pouring through." 

"Maybe not, but all our other fliers are busy, and if you want me to play strategist, I need to know what's happening. Get in the air, and talk to me." 

Reluctantly, Tony had to concede the point. "Fine. Tell Richards that there's some weirdo up here who seems to be connected to the machine somehow. He was mumbling bizarre things about someone wanting to show us something." 

"I'll let him know." Cap sounded like he was only exerting himself slightly. 

He turned back to the machine, deciding one more attempt to shut it down wouldn't hurt. He removed one gauntlet and tried to reach through the force field to the controls of the machine with his bare hand. It felt like something between the bite of icy winter wind and the sting of lemon juice on an open cut. It was like whiting out holding a live wire. He couldn’t move. 

Weirdest of all, it did actually feel like there was a vaguely feminine presence in there. One that wasn’t totally pleased with the use it had been put to, but willing to cooperate for the moment. When it noticed him, Tony shuddered. The power it was radiating felt like someone was pouring boiling water through his veins when it hit him. After an instant that stretched until it was a year long, whatever was in there decided not to take control of him, and let go of him. 

Feeling like he was moving through molasses, Tony managed to pull his hand back, and fumble his gauntlet back on. When he'd managed to get his breath back, Tony shook his head to clear it before taking off. For a few seconds that seemed to stretch, he hovered over Stark Tower fighting to eliminate the wobble in his posture, getting a handle on the situation, and briefly taking advantage of his mage powers to get a read on the battle on the streets below. 

His thoughts felt fuzzy in a way they never had before, and his mage powers were oddly sharp. His ability to enhance his tactical knowledge was prompting him to do something that felt obviously like common sense. 

"We need a perimeter, Cap," Tony announced over the comm after a brief moment's consideration. It wasn't much, but it was their best option at this point. "Otherwise we have no hope of containing this or keeping the casualty count down. For now, all of them that are coming through are focusing on us, but that won't last. We'll get overrun at some point." 

It was weird, but he felt like he was back in the Mark II suit, only just learning how to walk and fly in it. And yet, everything was definitely much more fluid than that. Far more practiced, and smooth. In the aftermath of his encounter with the portal machine, it was almost as though he could feel the armour like another limb, and manipulate it as naturally. Tony couldn't help but feel as though trying to put his hand through that energy barrier had unlocked something. As though this was part of what the weirdo had meant about showing them things. It would have made him supremely nervous about what that meant and how it would affect him, but the battle took first priority; he could worry about his powers later. 

It was probably a good thing that Cap had insisted Richards deal with the machine. The man had no mage powers at all beyond his creepy ability to turn himself into a rubber band, and was oblivious to the point where he only had eyes for his wife. 

"Roger that, Shellhead," Cap acknowledged the request, breaking him out of his train of thought. Tony nodded to himself, satisfied for the moment that his insights were being taken into account, and setting aside his wandering thoughts about the armour. Cap would get it done. 

It was a minute and a half before Cap's voice broke into his awareness again, momentarily distracting him from the fight. Steve's comm line to him was always on, he'd made sure of that when he'd handed it to the man. "I need men in these buildings," he was saying, and Tony assumed he'd found a police squad or something. "There are people inside that can run into the line of fire. You take them through the basement or through the subway. You keep them off the streets. I need a perimeter as far back as 39th." 

That made sense, it would give them enough room to work, but was a small enough area that the police and EMS wouldn't be overwhelmed. 

The distinctive sound of an explosion came through the comm line, followed by a scuffle. A long thirty seconds later, Steve said dryly, "why does no one listen to me unless I hit things?" 

Tony chuckled. "I thought you were a born New Yorker. You should know that about them already." 

"You've got your perimeter, Iron Man," Tony could hear the rueful tone in Cap's words. "They're going to need time to set it up, though." 

"I guessed as much, Cap. Thanks." Swerving around a building as he spoke, Tony blinked at what he saw. "Er. Okay." 

"Shellhead?" 

"Little busy, Cap. Got a big one on my radar." Tony shook himself out of his daze and gave the command to have JARVIS activate the miniature rockets built into the armour, feeling the movement of the armour plates as the missile launch array rose up to point over his shoulder like a wave of goosebumps rising on his arms. Forcing himself to ignore the imagined sensation, Tony aimed at the massive... well, leviathan, for lack of a better word. Firing, he pulled up to watch, expecting to see some satisfying explosions. He didn't get them. The leviathan roared and turned to attack him, instead. "Well, JARVIS, we got his attention. What the hell was step two?!" 

Before the AI could respond, Tony turned on his figurative heel and jetted away, trying not to get distracted by the sensation of the boot repulsors firing. It was an almost ticklish feeling, and just strange. But he needed to get some distance between himself and the leviathan so he'd have enough time to come up with a plan. Or at least 12% of a plan. 

"Shellhead?" 

"What," Tony asked, not really paying attention and more focused on what was on his tail than Cap's words. 

"Human Torch has discovered that some of them are very flammable." 

Tony grinned. "Perfect. I'm bringing the party to you. You’ve got the Human Torch somewhere over there, don’t you?" 

"I... I don't see how that's a party. Shellhead--" Cap started, breaking off when an enormous green figure barrelled past him. 

Tony barely noticed as he jetted past in the opposite direction, high above Cap and wholly focused on the leviathan, but he sure as hell noticed when it bellowed loudly enough to shake the windows of the surrounding high rises in their frames. And he noticed when it stopped the leviathan in its tracks. Tony smiled to himself. Bruce's alter ego was very much in evidence, and seemed to be showing off. What he'd been doing until now, Tony didn't know, and didn't much care. What mattered was that he was here now. 

The leviathan, however, retained its forward momentum, in accordance with the laws of physics that it had been ignoring up to that point, and flipped slowly over, the center point of rotation now suddenly shifted to the place its face had made contact with the ground, courtesy of Hulk's fists. It was already nearly vertical, tail pointing skyward, when Tony managed to get a lock on a soft spot thanks to JARVIS' efforts. This time the fired rocket made for a viscerally satisfying -- if disgusting -- explosion, sending charred and smoking chunks of meat flying even as it broke the beast's back and kept tons of space whale from toppling onto the small group of assembled superheroes. 

High above them, a second wave of chitauri soldiers began streaming through the blue-tinged rift in the air. 

Agent Romanov was the first to speak. "... guys?" 

Tony stared skyward, "call it, Cap," he put in. 

To his credit, Cap recovered quickly. "Alright, listen up. Until we can close that portal up there, we're gonna have to stick with containment as a strategy. Hawkeye, I want you on that roof," Cap pointed to the building on the far end of the block, "eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays." He turned to Tony, "Iron Man, you've got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash." 

The man Cap had referred to as Hawkeye eyed Tony for a moment before asking, "Wanna give me a lift?" 

"Mind telling me who the hell you are?" 

That got him a snort. "Agent Clint Barton, SHIELD. Known in the field as Hawkeye." 

Oh. The agent they'd apparently been tasked with rescuing. Well, better late than never. Tony couldn't help but feel that he should probably feel a lot more wary of just accepting this guy, after what he'd done to the Helicarrier, but an ally was an ally in this kind of fight, and he knew a little something about second chances. He gave the guy a nod. "I'll take it on faith for now that you're back with us and not a double or triple agent. We'll sort out the details later. Where to?" 

"I guess that's fair. Tasha got me back. Not sure how she did it." Hawkeye shrugged. "The highest point that has a good sight line on the area inside Cap's perimeter." 

Tony huffed in amusement. He wasn't sure what the hell that had meant, but the man seemed to be mentally present. At this rate, he'd wind up liking the asshole. Even if he _did_ use a weapon dating back to the Stone Age. With the tech in the bow resonating in a purer key than the assembly atop his own building that he could still feel in the fringes of his awareness, Tony considered the request for a moment, looking at the display JARVIS obligingly put up on his HUD. Right. Stark Tower was the tallest point in the area[13], but unsuitable. That meant either the Bank of America Tower, whose rooftop was less than ideally designed, or the highrise on Park Avenue which was much farther away from the action. "Whatever. Explanations later. Bank of America Tower[14] or Park," he asked. 

"Park's better." 

"Right," Tony acknowledged, firing his jetboots as he wound a hand securely in the straps of Barton's weapon harness. "Better clench up, Legolas." 

As they rose up into the air, arcing away from the small group at street level, he saw Thor land next to Steve. Good. 

"Thor," he heard Steve continue, apparently satisfied that they would do as he asked, "glad to see you. You've gotta try and bottleneck that portal. Slow them down. You've got the lightning. Light the bastards up." Thor flew past him as he took to the air again, having deposited Barton as requested. 

\------ 

"Agent Romanov, you and me, we stay here on the ground, keep the fighting here. Dr. Richards, do us a favour and see if you can't get that portal disabled and deploy your team where they're best suited. And Hulk? SMASH." Tony could _hear_ the smirk in Steve's voice and it was kind of a turn on. Damn it. Now was _not_ the time. 

The next hour passed in a blur of explosions, grinding weariness, and destruction. The property damage caused by the leviathans alone would probably total a billion dollars, given the costs of living and building in Manhattan. 

Tony found himself almost zoning out a few times as the fight wore on, getting jerked back to full awareness each time by the sharp pain of taking a hit or the off-center feeling of Loki's mage power. Johnny Storm seemed to delight in pretending he was a pinball, all but bouncing off the sides of buildings as he gleefully threw fireballs at any chitauri that stood still long enough to be targeted. Sue was using her ability to create shields to help maintain the perimeter. Tony occasionally saw Ben Grimm seemingly competing for kills with the Hulk. His own team was harder to keep track of. Hawkeye kept popping up on different rooftops, as the ones he occupied got trashed by the chitauri. Romanov and Cap kept getting embroiled in the mêlée and then coming up on the other end of their containment zone. Only Thor was consistently easy to spot, flying high in the skies with Tony and using his lightning to fry anything within reach with an eye to keeping the number of chitauri on the ground manageable for the others. 

The next clear moment, Tony pulled up to catch his breath and made a face. His body ached down to the bone after some of the hits he'd taken, despite the armour's ability to withstand and cushion blows, and he felt worn down to the point of being transparent; it almost surprised him that he still had a shadow, when he glanced down the thirty meters to the ground. His team and Richards' were being worn down with nothing to show for their efforts. The chitauri just kept on streaming in through that damned portal, and the nine of them fighting on the front lines were getting overrun. This was the worst possible kind of attrition warfare; they had almost no resources and no backup to speak of. No time to rest or have their wounds bound up. 

Movement off to his left in his peripheral vision grabbed his attention, and he turned to look at the portal. _Fucking hell, another leviathan?_ With a low growl, Tony turned to engage it, trying to cut through the beast's armoured skin with one of the cutting lasers mounted on his forearms before it got down to ground level. 

"Sir," JARVIS put in, tone surprisingly concerned, "we will lose power before you cut through that creature's exoskeleton." 

Giving up, Tony retracted the lasers, and darted ahead of the lumbering creature, an admittedly risky plan taking shape in his mind. "JARVIS, you ever hear the tale of Jonah?" 

Distantly he heard Cap trying to object to the action, but his friend's voice was drowned out by JARVIS' sardonic quip. "I wouldn't consider him a role model, sir." 

Ignoring both of them, Tony turned in his hover then jetted toward the leviathan, unleashing at least one shot of every projectile weapon he had left in his arsenal as he flew. Obligingly, the lumbering beast opened its mouth to roar at him. Undeterred, Tony held his course, fighting down a surge of atavistic visceral fear as he continued flying directly towards the gaping maw. Then he was past the rows of teeth, and it almost instantly got very dark. 

He was committed now, and had absolutely no intention of letting this be the end of his part in the fight. Grimly amused, Tony poured on all the power his armour could provide, tearing through the beast's guts and letting his boot repulsors sear the tissues behind him as he went. The loud pained roar that his actions caused reverberated through the lumbering beast, and the armour, making his helmet ring with a forced harmonic that gave him a fierce headache. 

What felt like an eternity later, half blinded by the involuntary tears brought up by the intensity of the headache, he burst through the weaker skin of the leviathan's other end, tumbling out of control. The leviathan collapsed, crashing to the ground and taking out a few floors of the nearby apartment blocks as it went. Tony landed on the sidewalk, cracking concrete and rolling about ten meters before he came to a rest, wrapped bodily around a hydrant with the wind knocked out of him. 

Tony took a few seconds to just breathe, hoping that whatever guts he was covered in wouldn't corrode the armour before the end of the fight, and let himself recover slightly before diving back into the vicious scrum. "Cap," he called out, ignoring the weary rasp in his voice, "that's one more of the massive space whales dealt with." 

"Shellhead!" The relief in Cap's voice was ridiculous, Tony thought disjointedly. "Don't do that to me again!" 

"Please. I'm fine." Now that he'd gotten his bearings enough to look around him, he found that a group of five of the probably-alien soldiers had discovered him and was running towards him, aiming their rifles as they ran. 

"I don't care! You--" 

"Gotta go, Winghead, we'll hash this out later." 

"I'm not done with you, Shellhead--" 

" _Later_ , buddy." 

It took him two tries to force himself to one knee. The moment he'd succeeded, one of his attackers pistol-whipped him with the butt of its rifle, knocking the helmet of his armour violently to the right, pushing it to the very limits of its range of motion. It made the servos jam and the heads-up display fritz. _I'll have to fix that after the battle._

His head ringing again and slightly dazed, Tony used his repulsors to blast that soldier backwards into two of the others. A trickle of wetness ran down his temple, and Tony realised he'd gotten cut somehow. With an irritated snarl, he used the strength of the gauntlets to pull the helmet straight. He could feel the damage with his technomage's senses, giving the armour's normally smooth motion a series of jagged edges. 

The remaining two approached slightly more cautiously than the first three, now warier than before. Tony stared them down as he checked the rest of his systems. "JARVIS, what've we got left in the way of offensive weaponry?" 

"One miniature mortar and four micro-munitions flares, sir." 

"That won't be enough. Damn it." 

"Perhaps you shouldn't have used as much of your remaining ammunition on that leviathan, sir." 

"Oh, breaking out the sarcasm, are we." 

Before the stalemate broke, Nick Fury's voice suddenly sounded over his comm and Tony decided that he'd clearly have to increase the encryption on the next software design iteration. "Iron Man, you copy? We've got a missile headed straight for the city. High command has come to the decision that they need to stem the flow of chitauri soldiers with a nuclear strike." 

"What moron came up with _that_ brilliant plan," Tony muttered, disgusted by the very idea. "If they were going to fire a nuke, the least they could have done was fire it at the portal rather than the city itself. What the fuck. Also, why are you telling _me_ this, Director, rather than the good Captain?" 

Fury snorted. "I tried to stop them and was overruled. And I'm telling you, Iron Man, in the hopes that you have the ability to _do_ something about it. The Captain does not, seeing as he doesn't have the capability to even get to the missile before it hits." 

Tony cursed again. Cap wasn't going to like this plan one bit, and that was all the more reason not to tell him. "How long've we got?" 

"Approximately two minutes." 

Tony nodded sharply, making a decision and firing his thrusters. "JARVIS, I need all the power we got diverted to--" 

"Already done, sir," the AI interrupted as Tony lifted off the sidewalk. 

Then Richards spoke, somehow having also patched himself into Tony's comms without bothering to ask for access, and his words got Tony's attention. "I can close it. Iron Man, Captain, can you hear me? I can close the portal!" 

The moment he finished speaking, Steve responded, "do it!" 

"No, wait!" Tony interjected. "We've got a nuke coming in, and it's going to blow in less than a minute. But I know just where to put it." 

"Iron Man! You know that's a one way trip," Richards sounded shocked, clearly having guessed Tony's intentions. "And besides, we won't be able to guarantee any of the effects of the weapon, if you try that. It might not even help matters on the ground." 

"Wait, what?" Cap obviously hadn't made the connection yet, but Tony knew it wouldn't take long. 

"Doesn't matter, Richards. It's still better than letting that missile hit the city," Tony gritted out, ignoring Cap's demands to know what he thought he was doing. When he grabbed a hold of the nuke, the metallic clang was loud enough that he was sure it would carry through the comm. Pouring on nearly all the power he had left, Tony wrenched the thing off course and redirected it toward the mind-meltingly bizarre rift in the sky, shattering a large portion of the Chrysler Building's upper floor windows in the process. 

_Oops._ Shaking off the vague feeling of guilt, he switched off the team comms and requested, "save what power we have left for return, JARVIS." 

"Sir." The AI hesitated, uncharacteristically. "Shall I call Miss Potts?" 

Tony thought it over for a moment. It would only distress her, and distract him. "No." 

As he climbed, gaining speed, Cap came on the comm -- Tony suspected JARVIS had switched it back on without notifying him. "Iron Man. What should we tell Mr. Stark, if..." 

Steve trailed off into silence, and Tony had to choke down a near hysterical laugh. "He already knows, Winghead. Comes with the job." 

The rift was looming in front of him now, and Tony couldn't stop a small anxious noise from escaping him. 

"Shellhead, if you don't come back I'll have to--" Steve's voice cut out into static, then silence, as the portal swallowed him. The sight that met Tony's eyes more or less simultaneously was horrifying. 

Despite the way his heads-up display and communications died, his air supply suddenly cut out, and JARVIS stuttered as contact was lost, none of it registered. Blankly, he stared down an entire armada of chitauri ready to follow the first two waves through the portal behind him. A round dozen more of the leviathans waited in rough formation, flanked by at least twenty-five battalions' worth of warriors on those flying sledges he'd noted during the battle. A large ship-like object waited behind the armada, and Tony decided he hadn't seen a more obvious primary target in a while. 

His armour's joints started to seize, then, not appreciating the sudden temperature change and lack of oxygen, and _that_ finally penetrated through the veiling haze the horror had dropped over him. Aiming as hastily as he could while maintaining accuracy, he pointed the nuke at the large ship and let go. 

As the nuke flew out of his hands, Tony let himself drift, propelled by pure momentum. He had no real range of movement, no JARVIS to help him steer or modulate the output of his jetboots, and there was a slow hissing air leak somewhere by his left ear. He just had to hope the transfer of momentum from the nuke was enough to send him back to the portal before it closed, but the chances that he'd make it back home were pretty much nil. He knew the math. 

Maybe half a minute later, the vast bulk of the ship exploded, a burst of burning gases expanding slowly outward. A shockwave followed close on its heels, catching many of the leviathans and warriors in the expanding cloud of fire. 

He watched as the EMP and shockwave raced toward him for a long minute, then the combination of battle weariness and lack of air overcame him, and he knew nothing more. 

\------ 

\---------------- 

[5] The [Mayday call](http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2014/01/planes-ships-used-word-mayday-distress/) originated in the early 1920s, and quickly became an international standard. More historical info at the link. Click here to return to text. 

[6] There are specific radio frequency bands used for communication at sea. [Wikipedia link](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marine_VHF_radio). Click here to return to text. 

[7] The same applies to airplane radio bands. [Wikipedia link](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Airband). Click here to return to text. 

[8] So. Catalyst assisted chemical energy storage is a real thing. It's an attempt to mimic the energy storage/release systems observed in nature, [which take advantage of catalysts to release the energy stored in chemical bonds](http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK26838/), and is currently one of the hot topics in the search for sustainable energy. For those of you scientifically inclined, I offer a few links to the literature: [{1}](http://news.stanford.edu/news/2014/november/catalyst-energy-storage-110514.html) | [{2}](http://phys.org/news/2015-09-catalysts-sustainable-energy.html) | [{3}](http://www.chemistryviews.org/details/ezine/4613271/Salted_Catalysts_for_Chemical_Energy_Storage.html) | [{4}](http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2012/11/121127093953.htm). Click here to return to text. 

[9] Radia Perlman is a BAMF in the area of computer science. She attended MIT at the same time Tony canonically would have, and basically invented the internet as we know it today. She is one of Tony's heroes. Fight me. Info at [Wikipedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radia_Perlman). Click here to return to text. 

[10] Fermat is one of THE names in mathematics and number theory, but he also made a lot of other accomplishments, including becoming fluent in six languages. [Wikipedia link](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pierre_de_Fermat). Click here to return to text. 

[11] The [Living Laser](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Living_Laser) is one of the villains that Iron Man battled during the early years of the comic's solo run, and pretty fun to read about, actually. Click here to return to text. 

[12] I actually did some quick calculations for this part. The [747-400](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boeing_747), the most common passenger airliner in service, has a high-subsonic cruise speed of Mach 0.85–0.855 (up to 570 mph or 920 km/h). On the other hand, the [speed of sound](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Speed_of_sound) is 1,236 kilometres per hour (768 mph; 667 kn). In other words, to be travelling at Mach 1, this is how fast you'd have to fly. Essentially, in saying that he can hit Mach 3, Tony is saying that he can fly at over 3600kph, if he feels like the situation warrants it. Over three times faster than the quinjet. Click here to return to text. 

[13] I'm fairly sure that many of you will already be familiar with this but just for reference: In the MCU, [Stark Tower](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Stark_Tower) is a high rise building towering over Manhattan located in 200 Park Avenue. This places Stark Tower directly behind Grand Central Terminal. Click here to return to text. 

[14]Similarly, there are a number of ridiculously tall high rises in Manhattan, and you can find them listed [here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_tallest_buildings_in_New_York_City#Tallest_buildings_by_pinnacle_height) if you wish. The specific building that They end up 'borrowing', is [Bank of America Tower](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bank_of_America_Tower_\(Manhattan\)%20). Click here to return to text. 


	5. Chapter 4: present day

A harsh spark thrown by the forceful removal of his faceplate jolted him, but he didn't want to wake. Opening his eyes would mean he was either dead or in a lot of trouble. A strangled exclamation of surprise tinged with shock made him open his eyes, then squint in the bright sunlight. "What just happened?" Tony quipped, trying to defuse the tension he could feel. "Please tell me nobody kissed me."

A ring of faces stared down at him, wearing varying expressions of surprise and annoyance. Carol looked like she wanted to strangle him, and Tony hid a wince. So did Banner, oddly enough. Richards was halfway to incoherent. Thor mostly looked amused. Tony avoided looking at Steve for the moment, not sure what he would see. And, perhaps more importantly, not sure what he _wanted_ to see. 

"Stark, what--" Richards sputtered after a moment, Tony's faceplate falling from his hands to hit the ground with a clang. "What the hell are you doing in the suit? What happened to your pilot?"

Tony ignored Richards in favour of the man moving in and leaning over him, though. Steve had apparently decided he wasn't about to be ignored. Tony didn't know what to say, still reeling somewhat from having survived what he'd thought was a suicide dive, so he stayed quiet for the moment, trying to process what had just happened.

This was distinctly not the way he'd wanted the world to find out about his dual identity. He'd be dealing with the stock market instability for weeks, now. There was no way the media would let this go anytime soon, and there was no way to keep his identity under wraps anymore. All it would take would be one photo, and there were almost guaranteed to be photographers lurking near the action for the _perfect shot_. If he couldn't find a way to spin this in his favour, he might have to give up his position as CEO, and that was the _last_ thing he wanted to do. If he did, the Board would have the company back in the weapons business before the ink of his signature dried.

But first, Tony let his head fall back to the cracked and uneven asphalt of the road surface with a tired groan, he had to talk to his friends. "Steve, I--"

"Shut up, Tony."

The expression on Steve's face was carefully controlled and gave away little. His tone wasn't much more expressive. Tony wasn't sure what that meant, but when Steve stood and offered him a hand up, he took it. Hopefully that could be read as not-livid. "Where's Loki," Tony asked, in an attempt to divert everyone's attention back to the larger problem at hand.

"Agents Barton and Romanov are standing watch over him with Ms. Storm and her brother. They eventually cornered him in your penthouse office."

Tony couldn't suppress the pained wince that statement caused. The place was guaranteed to be a wreck after that; Johnny Storm wasn't known for finesse or subtlety. Steve gave him a weird look.

"What," he retorted. "I'm allowed to be disappointed. I'm going to have to start on a lot of paperwork and projects from scratch, now."

" _That_ is what you're choosing to focus on, Stark?" Richards snorted, clearly unhappy that he hadn't been informed that Tony was leading the life of a superhero. As though he was entitled to know everything that went on in Tony's life. Carol elbowed him with a low grumble of a sigh, clearly aiming to distract him, but Richards continued speaking. "What ever happened to keeping backups of your work?"

Steve was obviously about to step in, but Tony wasn't having any of that. He could fight his own battles. "Whatever, Richards. Come on, quit criticising me and let's go see how badly they've mangled my office."

Tony removed the rest of his helmet, picked up the discarded faceplate, and stumbled to his feet. Carol caught at his shoulderplate and kept him there when he would have stumbled. She got a brief flicker of a smile in thanks, before he started toward the front doors of his corporate headquarters, carefully picking his way through the debris. He ached from the crown of his skull to the tips of his toes, and his sense of balance was trying to play tricks on him. Thankfully it was only a few blocks away. With his armour completely down, there was no way he was flying up there, and that really only left him one way up. The elevators. If they were still functioning.

It might have been smarter to get a hold of Fury and nag him into sending a quinjet or a chopper, really, but Tony's pride wouldn't let him. Let Steve do that if he thought of it.

\------

Six hours later, as night was falling, Tony found himself on the small rooftop terrace of his family's mansion, feeling oddly unsettled. After the battle and debrief, he'd expected to fall face first onto his bed and sleep the rest of the day away, but that was not to be. Somehow, despite the mental and physical exhaustion he felt, he was restless and anxious. There was no way he'd be able to sleep in this state. He'd even tried switching out his chest plate, which needed some repair work anyhow, for the modified parachute harness he'd started out with in an attempt to avoid physical reminders of the day's events. The straps he was no longer used to rubbed at his skin uncomfortably, but it was still an improvement.

Instead, he'd pried off the remains of the armour with JARVIS' help and set about fixing it, updating it. Streamlining everything he could think of, then toughening the alloys and reinforcing the joints. He considered adding copper o-ring seals, like those used to seal the joins between parts of vacuum chambers[15], to the joints to make it properly space-worthy rather than just watertight, but that solution wouldn't hold for long, even under normal wear and tear. If nothing else, he'd need a better material than copper to use. Those types of seals were one time use only, so he'd have to use fresh ones every time he put on the armour. There were other materials commonly used in research and industry applications, such as elastomers, but they wouldn't seal tightly enough, and wouldn't be tough enough to withstand the motions of the suit's joints for long.

Maybe on the next iteration, he'd decided. He needed to do some testing and simulation before he decided on the material he used for the o-rings. There was a good possibility that it would be easiest to just stick with putting in the copper o-rings, though. At least with the metal o-rings, he had the option of using them, then melting them down so he could re-cast and reuse them. There would be a bit of loss, sure, but it was still better than suffocating if he ever ended up on the wrong end of a portal again.

He'd finished with the immediate repairs far sooner than he'd expected to. In part because the armour hadn't actually taken that much damage during the fight, though he'd gone through his ammunition stores depressingly quickly. In part because he could feel the armour much more clearly, suddenly. Before the battle his awareness of it had been mostly as a particularly clear singing note amid the other tech he was surrounded by on a daily basis. Albeit as one piece of tech he could control, to a point, with thought and will. Now, though... now it was like he could feel every plate and strut and servo, and could tell what was likely to break under stress or was showing enough wear to need a replacement.

It was like the armour had become an extension of him, and that was freaky and weird. Now that he'd had time to think things over, he'd concluded that this new development was probably due to the way he'd been forced to use the armour in a prolonged fight without using his mage powers actively. The cube couldn't have had any influence. That idea made even less sense than the rest of the day had, and was therefore not his choice for most likely cause of the changes in his powers. No. More likely he'd subconsciously found a way to do it with his technomage's powers, somehow. Maybe by channeling his mage powers through them. How the hell that worked, he had no idea, but it was beyond bizarre.

On the other hand, though, that could be one hell of an advantage in a fight. The programmed interface that would let him control the suit directly with his apparently-still-developing mage powers wasn't ready yet, but with a few tweaks it would be possible to test it. And now that the cat was out of the bag about his identity as Iron Man, he wouldn't have to hide his use of his mage powers in the suit anymore.

At least not around his friends.

Tony made a face at the unusually clear skies, staring up at the brightest stars as they came into view one by one. Maybe he'd work on that project after he'd had a chance to sleep and process the day's events. There was a lot to process.

When a footfall sounded from behind him, Tony wasn't surprised. He'd been expecting someone would come find him. He just hadn't been sure who it would be. Richards had been quite adamant that Tony tell him everything about his suit and mage powers, despite Tony's staunch refusal to go into it in public. And he just knew he'd have to answer to Steve at some point.

A very telling silence fell and drew out as neither of them moved, and Tony knew beyond a doubt who it was that had tracked him down.

A long moment later, Steve cleared his throat. "Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Tony turned away from the railing, caught Steve’s eyes, and raised an eyebrow at him. He was fairly sure what Steve meant, but that didn't mean he was going to make it easy on him. "Tell you what?"

"That you're Iron Man." Steve held his eyes, expression vaguely challenging with an undertone of hurt.

Carol had spent about half an hour yelling at him once Loki had been safely cuffed and caged up. Apparently she'd figured out who had been in the suit weeks ago, herself. His mage powers apparently had a very distinctive signature feel to them. Tony sighed, bracing his hands on the railing and leaning back until they were tucked into the small of his back. "Steve," he replied, "I only ever told two people, and that was because I had to, to keep the cadre and company safe."

"Pepper?"

Tony nodded. "Pepper, and Rhodey. I didn't want the people around me, close to me, to come under fire because of who I am. Who I choose to be. I didn't want the cadre to be summarily disbanded, the company to fall into ruin because the media would take my double life and twist it into something ugly. I didn't want Nick to come gunning for me a second time, or the US military to try to take the armour. We both know about how well that would go." A tight angry smile twisted Tony's face. "I didn't want _you_ to get hurt."

"Tony--"

"Steve," Tony interrupted him, "I kept it as secret as possible to protect everyone. Including myself." A tense silence fell, stretching until Tony turned back to staring at the sky. "It was for the best, really."

"Are you finished?"

Tony couldn't quite identify the emotion in his friend's voice. He shrugged, feeling is shoulders hunch just slightly on the tail end of the motion. "I suppose so."

The ensuing silence drew out, and the tension slowly eased. Eventually, long after Tony had given up on getting a reply and was expecting Steve to walk away any moment, Steve finally spoke. "You know, you're not subtle."

"What?" That was so far from what he'd been expecting to hear that he blinked, confused.

"I was pretty sure you were Iron Man weeks ago."

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. That wasn't too surprising after Carol's rant, but he still hadn't really expected to hear Steve say it. "Really."

It wasn't a question, but Steve replied anyway. "If you wanted to keep it a secret, you should have been more careful. You were always leaving hastily right before Iron Man made an appearance somewhere. I rarely saw you both in the same room, and Iron Man always behaved oddly when I did. Your injuries fit the pattern, too. And that's not even touching the way you and Iron Man both felt. You have a very distinctive power aura, even when you've got your mage powers tamped down."

Tony stayed quiet, not looking at him. He wasn't sure what he'd see, and he didn't want to know, either, if it was anger or disappointment. But Steve hesitated before he continued speaking, and that surprised Tony into turning towards him. "Steve?"

Strangely, Steve looked like he couldn't decide whether he felt more embarrassed or determined. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" What the hell was going on here?

"That line about… You know. The one about being kissed. Did you mean it?"

Tony stared him down, unsure what to think. "Depends. Why?" He knew his tone was telegraphing his uncertainty, giving away more than he really wanted to about his feelings, but he couldn't force it totally level.

And then things stopped making sense. At all. He thought he felt a short burst of mage power, which made no sense, given that there was no reason it should be needed, and then he was suddenly wrapped up in strong arms and _hello muscles_ , and then it was hard to breathe because Steve was kissing all the air out of him and... wait, _holy shit._

It took him a few seconds in which his hands caught on Steve's shoulders and he couldn't make himself pull away, because the satisfied noise Steve made was too damn hot, and those broad shoulders were frankly delicious, but eventually he managed to gather enough of his wits to break the kiss, though he didn't move any farther away than that. It was difficult enough to hold back from the kissing, let alone step away from the arms around him.

"Not that I'm not flattered, Winghead," he managed, voice rougher than usual, "but we shouldn't."

That got him a skeptical look. "Why's that? It's legal, now."

Tony sputtered, caught off guard by the calm question. "You-- I-- what?"

"If you're not interested, that's okay," Steve's voice made it clear that he wouldn't believe a word if Tony tried that tactic, "but if you are, and still don't want to, I want to hear your reasons against it."

It was unfair; the man had just finished reducing him to a nearly incoherent state and now he wanted logic? Tony stared at him, unable to find the words, then gave up and pulled him back in, hoping to get some measure of revenge. It was hot and wet and slick, and far dirtier than Tony would ever have thought a first kiss with Steve could be. Let alone _his_ first kiss with Steve. Or his second. Steve was unfairly good at this.

A few minutes later, it was Steve that pulled away, expression amused. "That doesn't answer the question, Tony."

Now, though, he'd had a chance to recover. "I never dared dream you'd want more than what we already had. Thought you were more interested in women. You always spent a lot more time with Pepper than me, anyway," he dropped his head to Steve's shoulder, tucking his nose against the hollow at the base of Steve's throat and reveling in the feeling of warm skin mixing with the lingering smell of the leather of Steve's costume and the hint of charcoal dust that Tony suspected never quite went away. "You sure about this?"

"Are you?" Tony could hear Steve's own uncertainty, now. It was reassuring in a weird sort of way, knowing that not even Captain America was entirely confident when it came to such things. "You could do better."

Tony snorted, pulling back and straightening enough to catch Steve's eyes. "You have a very skewed self-image, but that's an issue for later. And that doesn't answer _my_ question."

It was kinda cute, the way his shoulders and jaw noticeably squared, like he was going into a fight. "Yes, I'm sure. I've been sure for two weeks."

Tony still wasn't completely convinced that it wasn't a case of Stockholm syndrome, but he also wasn't about to turn down this opportunity. "Come on, then," he said, nodding and turned toward the doors leading back into the mansion.

Steve didn’t follow immediately. “Tony,” he said, tone careful, “if you expect this to work out, there can’t be any more secrets like that between us.”

His hand on the doorknob, Tony turned back to face Steve. “I could say the same, you know. Instead of just waiting for me to speak up, you could have asked.”

Steve snorted. “I could have. But I didn’t want you panicking and running off to California or some such.”

Tony hid a wince at the accuracy of the statement. It wouldn’t have lasted long, but he _would_ probably have run off to think and calm down. “And now?”

“Now,” Steve smirked, a dark edge to the expression as he stepped back into Tony’s personal space and forced Tony to look up at him, “I’d say we need to talk about a few things.”

\------

\----------------

[15] In a lot of vacuum chambers, particularly those that operate at ultra high vacuum, [metal seals of various types](https://www.pfeiffer-vacuum.com/en/know-how/mechanical-components-in-vacuum/materials/sealing-materials/metal-seals/) are used to keep the rate of permeation of air back into the chamber as low as possible. There are also other types of materials that you can use, such as elastomers, but they don't seal as well or last as long. Click here to return to text.


	6. Epilogue

It had taken a month and a half of sitting around in SHIELD custody for the Spymaster to give in and talk, even after the dunking he’d gotten when the Helicarrier had gone down in the harbour. Apparently it had been Agent Agent who’d pulled him out of his cell and onto a lifeboat. Coulson had also been the one who’d finally managed to get through to the guy.

They hadn’t gotten much in the way of answers, but it had been enough. SHIELD had pulled on the strings they’d been given and Justin Hammer had been implicated as the man behind the string of thefts, making it a case of corporate espionage and sabotage. The only thing keeping SHIELD from simply arresting Hammer was the lack of solid evidence against him.

Tony doubted they’d find any, either. Hammer was a canny old fox, and knew how to keep his hands clean. At least as far as appearances went. Several of the faked designs had shown up on the internet, splitting most of the people who looked at them into two polarised camps. It was causing a minor sensation on the larger internet message boards as some of the more outlandish blueprints were picked apart by both factions.

But none of it could be traced back to the person who leaked the files. The IP address that they’d managed to get a hold of had been a public PC at the New York Public Library, conveniently located in a corner not visible from the few surveillance cameras in the building.

That stalemate had held for another five weeks, until, only days before Christmas, the Living Laser agreed to talk in exchange for a lighter sentence. The confession, taking place in a televised trial as it did, didn’t take long to hit the media. Hammer was implicated on a number of counts of espionage and sabotage, and Tony felt a little smug when he was called to the stand. It probably showed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to hold back his satisfaction entirely. The trial came to a close on December 29th, and the Laser got his lighter sentence, as promised. When the news broke, it went viral almost immediately, and Hammer’s share price plummeted.

JARVIS, armed with Tony’s accounts and instructions on how to proceed, purchased as many shares as he could get hold of through assorted proxies and under a number of Tony’s pseudonyms.

Also hard on the heels of the trial’s conclusion, Tony’s lawyers jumped into action. It would be a while before anything actually happened, but the lawsuit against Hammer was filed within hours of the trial’s conclusion and Tony gave a press conference about it the following morning, sending Hammer’s stock spiralling even farther down.

And then, when most of the immediate chaos had died down, Tony found himself retreating to his rooftop terrace, wrapped up in warm layers of clothing in deference to the cold weather. He needed to decompress, and it made for a convenient excuse for Pepper to put off the reporters with.

That was where Steve found him, about a half hour later.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?” He didn’t turn away from the railing, but he could feel the smile tugging at his lips that Steve’s presence always seemed to cause, lately. They had yet to take the last few steps from making out and into bed, but somehow that hadn't bothered either of them.

Steve stepped up behind him and wrapped himself around Tony, tucking his nose into the back of Tony’s collar. “Jeez, you’re half-frozen. What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Needed a little time to myself,” Tony shrugged. “Apparently, nearly buying your biggest rival out of business really takes it out of you. Who knew?”

The statement got him an amused huff. “You could have done that inside, too.”

Tony turned just far enough to raise an eyebrow at his boyfriend, surprised that Steve wasn’t crying foul at the less-than-noble tactics he’d used to bring about this sequence of events. “Really? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“He very nearly succeeded at putting you out of business, and the two people he hired to steal from you came damn close to killing you.” Steve shrugged. “He deserved it.”

Laughing, Tony turned and kissed him. “Right. Sure. Let’s go inside.”

Steve followed willingly enough, though he hesitated briefly when he realised Tony was leading him into the master bedroom.

"Cap?"

Steve startled just slightly, then crossed the threshold with an air of mixed anticipation and trepidation. "Thought I asked you to call me Steve when I’m out of uniform."

"But you respond so well to your nickname," Tony replied, knowing the smirk and the burr in his voice turned the seemingly innocent statement into something else entirely.

Not sure what to say, Steve settled for closing the distance separating them and tumbling him to the bed. It had the effect of pulling a surprised yelp out of Tony for his troubles.

Recovering quickly, Tony made sure to squirm strategically against Steve's hold, making sure he had _all_ of Steve's attention. They'd gotten this far before in their make out sessions on the sofa, so this was all still safe territory. "So, now that you've got me where you want me, what are your intentions?"

The question made Steve's ears pink, and damn if that wasn't a turn on. Tony had a feeling he'd be finding new things about Steve that--

"Well," Steve broke into his thoughts, tone unsure, "I never got far enough with anyone else for that to matter."

Tony stared at him, disbelieving, and the light blush deepened prompting him to let the expression fade into a smug smirk.

"Tony," Steve protested, "quit that. I know what I want. I'm just not..."

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Tony replied. "Well, we can't have that."

"What--"

Threading his left hand into blond hair, he cut the question off with a deeper kiss than they'd shared so far, reaching down with the other hand to ruck up Steve's thin t-shirt. Tony let his fingers trail over soft skin as he swallowed the surprised sound that elicited, mapping out the contours and looking for sensitive spots. He made sure to linger on the ones he already knew as he searched for new ones; they'd mostly kept their touches to the areas not covered by clothing until now. Waiting until Steve had relaxed into the touches before breaking the kiss, he ventured to ask, "good?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay. Stop me if I'm going too fast," Tony added, pushing at one shoulder with the hand he'd had buried in Steve's hair until Steve got the hint and allowed himself to be rolled onto his back. "Or don't, if that's what you want."

Steve sat up long enough to shuck the t-shirt, which was now bunched up under his arms. "Shut up, Tony."

Tony, sufficiently distracted by the expanses of skin suddenly accessible, only nodded. Without another word, he went back to exploring, this time with both hands and his mouth. A hot hard body like Steve's was more than sufficient reason for long languid worship, to the best of his ability. He couldn't hold back an amused huff when Steve twitched with every touch, clearly not used to the feeling of Tony's beard yet but still eagerly pushing into the caresses. Anytime Steve responded with a soft noise, Tony made sure to linger, trying to work out what Steve liked best.

Shifting to settle his center of mass down over Steve's hips, enjoying the way that made Steve buck upwards and riding out the movement even as he knew he had no hope of pinning the man, Tony caught his eyes. He held them even as he shifted further, propping himself up on his elbows, his hands going to the fly of Steve's pants.

When he got no reaction from Steve other than a quick lick of his lips, Tony opened the button and zipper, pleased when that made Steve's eyes go darker. The moment held until Tony smirked at him. "Still okay?"

"Damn it, Tony, quit teasing." Steve actually rolled his eyes at him, and Tony couldn't help laughing. The movement jostled him enough that Steve moaned softly.

"Okay, okay." Settling on his stomach between Steve's legs, he eased the pants off Steve's hips, followed by his underwear. Tony could feel him inhale deeply, almost holding his breath as he watched Tony's actions. Anticipating.

Well, Tony decided, better not to keep him waiting, then. They could do slow another time. He was reaching the limits of his own patience. Without further preamble, he reached out to steady Steve's dick, and delicately licked up the drop of precome trickling down the length of him. Steve jerked, hard, and cried out. Planting his other hand on Steve's hip to steady himself against any more sudden movements, Tony bent his head to take just the crown into his mouth.

"Tony!" Steve apparently had already adjusted to the sensation. He tensed, but didn't move. Much. One hand was tightly fisted in the sheets, though, the knuckles white and tendons clearly outlined under the skin.

Just as well. That meant he could enjoy this without worrying about getting choked. Knowing he probably looked as pleased with himself as he felt, Tony took more of Steve into his mouth, letting the head slide along his tongue until it hit the back of his throat, teasing what didn't fit with his fingernails. It had been a while, but he was damn well going to blow Steve's mind. Well, among other things.

The almost wounded noise Steve made was amazing, and reminded Tony of his own erection. He carefully didn't let himself do anything about it, though he couldn't stop himself from grinding his hips down against the bed as he bobbed his head. _Not yet,_ he told himself as he did his best to drive Steve to the edge and over it. It was always better when he made himself wait.

"Tony, oh--"

The moans and broken words trailed off into something Tony didn't catch, distorted as it was. But it didn't sound like 'stop', so he couldn't muster the wherewithal to care. A broad hand trailed down past his right ear and along his jawline, pausing to play with his beard, then lingered at the corner of his mouth.

For a crazy moment, Tony almost considered trading his mouthful of Steve for a finger or three before his lust properly reasserted itself. Pulling back almost far enough to let Steve slip out of his mouth, Tony caught his eyes again before pushing back the foreskin with his tongue. Steve choked on air.

"Tony-- Tony, if you don't stop, I'll--"

Deciding he didn't care as long as Steve enjoyed the romp, Tony responded by intensifying his efforts. It didn't take much more. Sounding like the orgasm had felt like a punch to the gut, Steve came, arching up with a shout. Carefully, Tony worked him through it, making sure to draw out the aftershocks as best he could.

As Steve relaxed into the sheets, slightly out of breath and looking like he'd just been poleaxed, Tony carefully pulled away, letting Steve's dick fall from his mouth with a pop that did nothing better than remind both of them of what had just happened.

Not bothering to shift positions, Tony crossed his arms over Steve's lower belly, resting his chin on them and watching him come down from the high.

"Tony?"

Steve's voice was the best kind of rough. Tony knew his probably wasn't much better as he replied. "Yeah?"

"What about you?"

Tony shrugged as best he could from his position.

That response, apparently, was unacceptable to Steve. He hauled Tony up by his shoulders, flipped him onto his back and pinned him to the bed. Tony squirmed, resisting just enough to feel Steve exert his strength a little, enjoying the feeling of being pressed into the mattress by Steve's solid bulk. Pressed so tightly together, Tony found it impossible to resist the urge to kiss him again.

When the kiss broke, Steve gathered up Tony's hands and pinned them above his head. "I asked you a question, you know."

Arching his back slightly and rubbing every possible inch of his body against Steve's, Tony stretched languidly, making no effort to escape. "I know. But it's not one that requires a response. If you want to, go ahead. Touch me, lick, bite, stroke, whatever. Explore. Enjoy yourself. Otherwise I can deal with it later. The anticipation is at least half the fun."

Steve stared at him for a moment, clearly considering, then, started by stripping off Tony's shirt, deftly recapturing his hands nearly before Tony realised they were free and re-pinning them. Tony spared a moment to be glad he'd opted not to bother with the chestplate that afternoon. Having to deal with fumbling that off and out of the way would be incredibly annoying right now.

Steve held Tony's hands where they were as his free hand traced a wandering path across Tony's torso, lingering where he pleased between the harness straps crisscrossing his skin. Tony couldn't help but thrust up, rubbing himself against Steve, when he followed a similar path with his mouth, clearly mimicking what Tony had just done to him.

When Steve happened to find the sensitive spot just below his collarbone, first with his fingers then with his teeth, Tony tried to push up into the caress. He was only half successful. Encouraged by the reaction, Steve pinned him a little more firmly, and shifted a little lower.

"What do you want, Tony?"

"Surprise me," he managed to get out, still more or less in control of himself.

Steve smirked, shifting a little lower still and toying with a nipple when he discovered that got a good reaction. "Maybe I'll just keep you here and keep you hard until you tell me, then."

_Holy hell._

Tony whined, the sound coming from high in his throat, and tossed his head back. "Do that," he gritted out, "and you'll never get an answer."

"That sounds like a challenge."

Tony shuddered. This was going to end way too quickly, if Steve kept that up. "Fact," he managed.

"Hmm." The calculating expression Steve wore said more clearly than words ever could that he wasn't about to let Tony's little revelation be forgotten, but he reached down with his free hand and undid the fly of Tony's slacks.

He didn't bother stripping them off, though, simply pulling the fabric aside enough to take Tony in hand and start working him. He had no real idea how to do this, and it showed, but it didn't even matter. Even that was a turn on, right now, and Tony groaned his approval. "Fuck, yes!"

He'd been holding back for long enough that his needs were rapidly overwhelming his weakening control, though. It didn't take much to send him over the edge with a low moan and a long shudder.

He stretched languidly in the aftermath, restless for a long moment until Steve settled against him.

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One arm tight around Steve's waist, Tony pulled up to hover far above the mostly lifeless circle.

_They say moss can survive without water for forty years, and revive at the first rain it gets. That moss is the first sign of returning life, with the way it will grow literally anywhere, from rocks to the coats of animals like sloths._

_Well, it's been seventy years, and the land is finally recovering. Here's hoping it stays that way._

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